THE1 


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HOR-DEL 


REX      BEACH 


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[See  page  72 
THE     GIRL     STOOD      BAREHEADED      UNDER     THE     WINTRY     SKY 


V*ft 


XX 
DO 


THE 

SILVER  HORDE 


BY 

REX     B  EAC  H 

AUTHOR  OJ" 
'TIIK  SPOILERS"  ANI>  "THE  KAKKIEK 


ILLUSTRATED      BY 
HARVEY     T.     OUNN 


1 


\A 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 

HARPER  &   BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

M  CMI  X 


BOOKS  BY 
REX     BEACH 

THE  SILVER  HORDE.  Ill'd.  Post  8vo.  .  $1.50 
THE  BARRIER.  Illustrated.  Post  8vo  .  .  1.50 
THE  SPOILERS.  Illustrated.  Post  8vo  .  .  1.50 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  N.  Y. 


Copyright,  1909,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  September,  1909. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  WHEREIN    A    SPIRITLESS     MAN    AND    A    ROGUE 

APPEAR i 

II.  IN  WHICH   THEY  BREAK  BREAD  WITH  A  LONELY 

WOMAN 14 

III.  IN  WHICH  CHERRY  MALOTTE  DISPLAYS  A  TEMPER  32 

IV.  IN  WHICH  SHE  GIVES    HEART  TO  A  HOPELESS 

MAN 43 

V.  IN  WHICH  A  COMPACT    is  FORMED $j 

VI.  WHEREIN  BOREAS  TAKES  A  HAND 70 

VII.  AND  NEPTUNE  TAKES  ANOTHER 84 

VIII.  WHEREIN   BOYD  ADMITS  His    FAILURE      .     .     .  100 

IX.  AND  is  GRANTED  A  YEAR  OF  GRACE    ....  114 

X.  IN  WHICH  BIG  GEORGE  MEETS  His  ENEMY      .  128 

XI.  WHEREIN  BOYD  EMERSON  is  TWICE  AMAZED      .  142 

XII.  IN  WHICH  Miss  WAYLAND  is  OF  Two  MINDS      .  157 

XIII.  IN    WHICH    CHERRY    MALOTTE     BECOMES    SUS 

PICIOUS  . 173 

XIV.  IN  WHICH  THEY  RECOGNIZE  THE   ENEMY     .     .  187 

XV.  THE  DOORS  OF  THE  VAULT    SWING    SHUT     .     .201 

XVI.  WILLIS  MARSH  COMES  OUT    FROM   COVER     .     .  210 

XVII.  A  NEW  ENEMY  APPEARS 225 

XVIII.  WILLIS  MARSH    SPRINGS  A  TRAP 240 

XIX.  IN  WHICH  A  MUTINY    is  THREATENED       .     .     .  253 

XX.  WHEREIN  "FINGERLESS"  FRASER  RETURNS.     .  265 

MI58 I 9 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 


XXI.  A  HAND  IN  THE  DARK 279 

XXII.  THE  SILVER  HORDE 294 

XXIII.  IN  WHICH  MORE  PLANS  ARE  LAID     ....  310 

XXIV.  WHEREIN    "THE     GRANDE    DAME"    ARRIVES, 

LADEN   WITH  DISAPPOINTMENTS         .     .     .  322 

XXV.  THE  CLASH 342 

XXVI.  IN  WHICH  A  SCORE  is  SETTLED 361 

XXVII.  AND  A  DREAM  COMES  TRUE 378 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  GIRL  STOOD  BAREHEADED  UNDER  THE  WINTRY 

SKY .  .',  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

THEY  WENT  OFF  AT  A  MAD  RUN,  SWOOPING  DOWN 

THE  STEEP  BANK Facing  p.  48 

OUT  ACROSS  THE  LONESOME  WASTE  THEY  JOURNEYED  "  96 
WAYNE  WAYLAND  STOOD  IN  THE  OPENING  ...  "  126 
MILDRED  CEASED  PLAYING  AND  SWUNG  ABOUT 

"WHAT  DO  YOU  MEAN?" .  "  168 

"WHAT  RIGHT  HAVE  YOU  TO  SAY  SUCH  THINGS  TO 

ME?"  SHE  CRIED "  206 

THE  BIG  FISHERMAN  WENT  THROUGH  THE  RANKS 

OF  THE  ENEMY  LIKE  A  TORNADO  ;  "  236 

CHERRY  WOULD  HAVE  PASSED  ON  SILENTLY,  BUT 

MISS  WAYLAND  CHECKED  HER    ......      ".     346 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 


THE   SILVER  HORDE 

CHAPTER  I 

WHEREIN     A     SPIRITLESS     MAN     AND     A     ROGUE     APPEAR 

THE  trail  to  Kalvik  leads  down  from  the  northward 
mountains  over  the  tundra  which  flanks  the  tide 
flats,  then  creeps  out  upon  the  salt  ice  of  the  river 
and  across  to  the  village.  It  boasts  no  travel  in  sum 
mer,  but  by  winter  an  occasional  toil-worn  traveller 
may  be  seen  issuing  forth  from  the  Great  Country  be 
yond,  bound  for  the  open  water;  while  once  in  thirty 
days  the  mail- team  whirls  out  of  the  forest  to  the  south, 
pauses  one  night  to  leave  word  of  the  world,  and  then 
is  swallowed  up  in  the  silent  hills.  Kalvik,  to  be  sure, 
is  not  much  of  a  place,  being  hidden  away  from  the 
main-travelled  routes  to  the  interior  and  wholly  un 
known  except  to  those  interested  in  the  fisheries. 

A  Greek  church,  a  Russian  school  with  a  cassocked 
priest  presiding,  and,  about  a  hundred  houses,  beside 
the  cannery  buildings,  make  up  the  village.  At  first 
glance  these  canneries  might  convey  the  impression 
of  a  considerable  city,  for  there  are  ten  plants,  in  all, 
scattered  along  several  miles  of  the  river-bank;  but  in 
winter  they  stand  empty  and  still,  their  great  roofs 
drummed  upon  by  the  fierce  Arctic  storms,  their  high 

i 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

stacks  pointing  skyward  like  long,  frozen  fingers  black 
with  frost.  There  are  the  natives,  of  course,  but  they 
do  not  count,  concealed  as  they  are  in  burrows.  No 
one  knows  their  number,  not  even  the  priest  who 
gathers  toll  from  them. 

Early  one  December  afternoon  there  entered  upon 
this  trail  from  the  timberless  hills  far  away  to  the  north 
ward  a  weary  team  of  six  dogs,  driven  by  two  men. 
It  had  been  snowing  since  dawn,  and  the  dim  sled- tracks 
were  hidden  beneath  a  six-inch  fluff  which  rendered 
progress  difficult  and  called  the  whip  into  cruel  service. 
A  gray  smother  sifted  down  sluggishly,  shutting  out 
hill  and  horizon,  blending  sky  and  landscape  into  a 
blurred  monotone,  playing  strange  pranks  with  the  eye 
that  grew  tired  trying  to  pierce  it. 

The  travellers  had  been  plodding  sullenly,  hour  after 
hour,  dispirited  by  the  weight  of  the  storm,  which  bore 
them  down  like  some  impalpable,  resistless  burden. 
There  was  no  reality  in  earth,  air,  or  sky.  Their 
vision  was  rested  by  no  spot  of  color  save  themselves, 
apparently  swimming  through  an  endless,  formless 
atmosphere  of  gray. 

"Fingerless"  Fraser  broke  trail,  but  to  Boyd  Emer 
son,  who  drove,  he  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  dancing  doll, 
bobbing  and  swaying  grotesquely,  as  if  suspended  by 
invisible  wires.  At  times,  it  seemed  to  the  driver's 
whimsical  fancy  as  if  each  of  them  trod  a  measure  in 
the  centre  of  a  colorless  universe,  something  after  the 
fashion  of  goldfish  floating  in  a  globe. 

Fraser  pulled  up  without  warning  and  instantly  the 
dogs  stopped,  straightway  beginning  to  soothe  their 
trail-worn  pads  and  to  strip  the  ice-pellets  from  be 
tween  their  toes.  But  the  "wheelers"  were  too  tired 
to  make  the  effort,  so  Emerson  went  forward  and  per- 

2 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

formed  the  task  for  them,  while  Eraser  floundered  back 
and  sank  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  sled. 

"Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  sure  tough.  If  I 
don't  see  a  tree  or  something  with  enough  color  to  bust 
this  monotony  I'll  go  dotty." 

"Another  day  like  this  and  we'd  both  be  snow- 
blind,"  observed  Emerson  grimly,  as  he  bent  to  his 
task.  "  But  it  can't  be  far  to  the  river  now." 

"This  fall  has  covered  the  trail  till  I  have  to  feel 
it  out  with  my  feet,"  grumbled  Fraser.  "When  I 
step  off  to  one  side  I  go  in  up  to  my  hips.  It's  like 
walking  a  plank  a  foot  deep  in  feathers,  and  I  feel  like 
I  was  a  mile  above  the  earth  in  a  heavy  fog."  After 
a  moment  he  continued:  "Speaking  of  feathers,  how'd 
you  like  to  have  a  fried  chicken  a  la  Maryland?" 

"Shut  up!"  said  the  man  at  the  dogs,  crossly. 

"Well,  it  don't  do  any  harm  to  think  about  it," 
growled  Fraser,  good-naturedly.  He  felt  out  a  pipe 
from  his  pocket  and  endeavored  unsuccessfully  to  blow 
through  it,  then  complained: 

"The  damn  thing  is  froze.  It  seems  like  a  man 
can't  practice  no  vices  whatever  in  this  country.  I'm 
glad  I'm  getting  out  of  it." 

"  So  am  I,"  agreed  the  younger  man.  Having  com 
pleted  his  task,  he  came  back  to  the  sled  and  seated 
himself  beside  the  other. 

"As  I  was  saying  a  mile  back  yonder,"  Fraser  re 
sumed,  "  whatever  made  you  snatch  me  away  from 
them  blue-coated  minions  of  the  law,  I  don't  know. 
You  says  it's  for  company,  to  be  sure,  but  we  visit 
with  one  another  about  like  two  deef- mutes.  Why 
did  you  do  it,  Bo?" 

"Well,  you  talk  enough  for  both  of  us." 

"Yes,  but  that  ain't  no  reason  why  you  should  lay 

3 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

yourself  liable  to  the  '  square-toes.'  You  ain't  the 
kind  to  take  a  chance  just  because  you're  lonesome." 

"  I  picked  you  up  because  of  your  moth-eaten  morals, 
I  dare  say.  I  was  tired  of  myself,  and  you  interested 
me.  Besides,"  Emerson  added,  reflectively,  "  I  have  no 
particular  cause  to  love  the  law,  either." 

"That's  how  I  sized  it,"  said  Fraser,  wagging  his 
head  with  animation,  "  I  knew  you'd  had  some  kind  of 
a  run-in.  What  was  it?  This  is  low  down,  see,  and 
confidential,  as  between  two  crooks.  I'll  never  snitch." 

"Hold  on  there!  I'm  not  a  crook.  I'm  not  suf 
ficiently  ingenious  to  be  a  member  of  your  honorable 
profession." 

"  Well,  I  guess  my  profession  is  as  honorable  as  most. 
I've  tried  all  of  them,  and  they're  all  alike.  It's  simply 
a  question  of  how  the  other  fellow  will  separate  easiest." 
He  stopped  and  tightened  his  snow-shoe  thong,  then 
rising,  gazed  curiously  at  the  listless  countenance  of  his 
travelling  companion,  feeling  anew  the  curiosity  that 
had  fretted  him  for  the  past  three  weeks;  finally  he  ob 
served,  with  a  trace  of  impatience: 

"Well,  if  you  ain't  one  of  us,  you'd  ought  to  be. 
You've  got  the  best  poker  face  I  ever  see;  it's  as  blind 
as  a  plastered  wall.  You  ain't  had  a  real  expression 
on  it  since  you  hauled  me  off  that  ice-floe  in  Norton 
Sound." 

He  swung  ahead  of  the  dogs;  they  rose  reluctantly, 
and  with  a  crack  of  the  whip  the  little  caravan  crawled 
noiselessly  into  the  gray  twilight. 

An  hour  later  they  dropped  from  the  plain,  down 
through  a  gutter-like  gully  to  the  river,  where  they 
found  a  trail,  glass-hard  beneath  its  downy  covering. 
A  cold  breath  sucked  up  from  the  sea;  ahead  they  saw 
the  ragged  ice  up-ended  by  the  tide,  but  their  course 

4 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

was  well  marked  now,  so  they  swung  themselves  upon 
the  sled,  while  the  dogs  shook  off  their  lethargy  and 
broke  into  their  pattering,  tireless  wolf-trot. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  point  where  the  trail  divided, 
one  branch  leading  off  at  right  angles  from  the  shore 
and  penetrating  the  hummocks  that  marked  the  tide 
limit.  Evidently  it  led  to  the  village  which  they  knew 
lay  somewhere  on  the  farther  side,  hidden  by  a  mile  or 
more  of  sifting  snow,  so  they  altered  their  course  and 
bore  out  upon  the  river. 

The  going  here  was  so  rough  that  both  men  leaped 
from  their  seats  and  ran  beside  the  sled,  one  at  the 
front,  the  other  guiding  it  from  the  rear.  Up  and 
down  over  the  ridges  the  trail  led,  winding  through 
the  frozen  inequalities,  the  dogs  never  breaking  their 
tireless  trot.  They  mounted  a  swelling  ridge  and 
rushed  down  to  the  level  river  ice  beyond,  but  as  they 
did  so  they  felt  their  footing  sag  beneath  them,  heard 
a  shivering  creak  on  every  side,  and,  before  they  could 
do  more  than  cry  out  warningly,  saw  water  rising  about 
the  sled  -  runners.  The  momentum  of  the  heavy 
sledge,  together  with  the  speed  of  the  racing  dogs,  forced 
them  out  upon  the  treacherous  ice  before  they  could 
check  their  speed.  Emerson  shouted,  the  dogs  leaped, 
but  with  a  crash  the  ice  gave  way,  and  for  a  moment  the 
water  closed  over  him. 

Clinging  to  the  sled  to  save  himself,  his  weight  slowed 
it  down,  and  the  dogs  stopped.  "  Fingcrlcss "  Fraser 
broke  through  in  turn,  gasping  as  the  icy  water  rose 
to  his  armpits.  Slowly  at  first  the  sled  sank,  till  it 
floated  half  submerged,  and  this  spot  which  a  moment 
before  had  seemed  so  safe  and  solid  became  now  a 
churning  tangle  of  broken  fragments,  men  and  dogs 
struggling  in  a  liquid  that  seemed  dark  as  syrup  con- 

5 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

trasted  with  the  surrounding  whiteness.  The  lead  ani 
mals,  under  whose  feet  the  ice  was  still  firm,  turned  in 
quiringly,  then  settled  on  their  haunches  with  lolling 
tongues.  The  pair  next  ahead  of  the  sledge  paddled 
frantically,  straining  to  reach  the  solid  sheet  beyond, 
but  were  held  back  by  their  harness.  Emerson  used  the 
sled  for  a  footing  and  endeavored  to  gain  the  ice  at  one 
side,  but  it  broke  beneath  him  and  he  lunged  in  up  to 
his  shoulders.  Again  he  tried,  but  again  the  ice  broke 
under  his  hand,  more  easily  now. 

Eraser  struggled  to  get  out  in  the  opposite  direction, 
each  man  aiming  to  secure  an  independent  footing, 
but  their  efforts  only  enlarged  the  pool.  The  chill  went 
through  them  like  thin  blades,  and  they  chattered  gasp 
ingly,  fighting  with  desperation,  while  the  wheel  dogs, 
involved  in  the  harness,  began  to  whine  and  cough,  at 
which  Emerson  shouted: 

"Cut  the  team  loose,  quick!"  But  the  other  spat 
out  a  mouthful  of  salt  water  and  spluttered: 

"I— I  can't  swim!" 

Whereupon  the  first  speaker  half  swam  half  dragged 
himself  through  the  slush  and  broken  debris  to  the 
forward  end  of  the  sled,  and  seeking  out  the  sheath- 
knife  from  beneath  his  parka,  cut  the  harness  of  the 
two  distressed  animals.  Once  free,  they  scrambled  to 
safety,  shook  themselves,  and  rolled  in  the  dry  snow. 

Emerson  next  attempted  to  lift  the  nose  of  the  sled 
up  on  the  ice,  shouting  at  the  remainder  of  the  team  to 
pull,  but  they  only  wagged  their  tails  and  whined 
excitedly  at  this  unusual  form  of  entertainment.  Each 
time  he  tried  to  lift  the  sled  he  crashed  through  fresh 
ice,  finally  bearing  the  next  pair  of  dogs  with  him,  and 
then  the  two  animals  in  the  lead.  All  of  them  became 
hopelessly  entangled. 

6 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

He  could  have  won  his  way  back  to  the  permanent 
ice  as  Fraser  was  doing,  but  there  was  no  way  of  getting 
his  team  there  and  he  would  not  sacrifice  those  dumb 
brutes  now  growing  frantic.  One  of  them  pawed  the 
sheath-knife  from  his  hand.  He  had  become  almost 
numb  with  cold  and  despair  when  he  heard  the  jingle 
of  many  small  bells,  and  a  sharp  command  uttered  in 
a  new  voice. 

Out  of  the  snow  fog  from  the  direction  in  which  they 
were  headed  broke  a  team  running  full  and  free.  At  a 
word  they  veered  to  the  right  and  came  to  a  pause, 
avoiding  the  danger-spot.  Even  from  his  hasty  glance 
Emerson  marvelled  at  the  outfit,  having  never  seen 
the  like  in  all  his  travels  through  the  North,  for  each 
animal  of  the  twelve  stood  hip-high  to  a  tall  man,  and 
they  were  like  wolves  of  one  pack,  gray  and  gaunt  and 
wicked.  The  basket-sled  behind  them  was  long  and 
light,  and  of  a  design  that  was  new  to  him,  while  the 
furs  in  it  were  of  white  fox. 

The  figure  wrapped  up  in  them  spoke  again  sharply, 
whereupon  a  tall  Indian  runner  left  the  team  and 
headed  swiftly  for  the  scene  of  the  accident.  As  he 
approached,  Emerson  noted  the  fellow's  flowing  parka 
of  ground-squirrel  skins,  from  which  a  score  of  fluffy 
tails  fell  free,  and  he  saw  that  this  was  no  Indian,  but 
a  half-breed  of  peculiar  coppery  lightness.  The  man 
ran  forward  till  he  neared  the  edge  of  the  opening  where 
the  tide  had  caused  the  floes  to  separate  and  the  cold 
had  not  had  time  as  yet  to  heal  it;  then  flattening  his 
body  to  its  full  length  on  the  ice,  he  crawled  out  cau 
tiously  and  seized  the  lead  dog.  Carefully  he  wormed 
his  way  backward  to  security,  then  leaned  his  weight 
upon  the  tugline. 

It  had  been  a  ticklish  operation,  requiring  nice  skill 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  dexterity,  but  now  that  his  footing  was  sure  the 
runner  exerted  his  whole  strength,  and  as  the  dogs 
scratched  and  tore  for  firm  foothold,  the  sled  came 
crunching  closer  and  closer  through  the  half-inch  skin 
of  ice.  Then  he  reached  down  and  dragged  Emerson 
out,  dripping  and  nerveless  from  his  immersion.  To 
gether  they  rescued  the  outfit. 

The  person  in  the  sledge  had  watched  them  silently, 
but  now  spoke  in  a  strange  patois,  and  the  breed  gave 
voice  to  her  words,  for  it  was  a  woman. 

"One  mile  you  go — white  man  house.  Go  quick — 
you  freeze."  He  pointed  back  whence  the  two  men 
had  come,  indicating  the  other  branch  of  the  trail. 

Fraser  had  emerged  meanwhile  and  circled  the  water- 
hole,  but  even  this  brief  exposure  to  the  open  air  had 
served  to  harden  his  wet  garments  into  a  crackling 
armor.  With  rattling  teeth,  he  asked: 

"  Ain't  you  got  no  dry  clothes  ?     Our  stuff  is  soaked." 

Again  the  Indian  translated  some  words  from  the  girl. 

"No!  You  hurry  and  no  stop  here.  We  go  quick 
over  yonder.  No  can  stop  at  all." 

He  hurried  back  to  his  mistress,  cried  once  to  the 
pack  of  gray  dogs,  "  Oonah!"  and  they  were  off  as  if  in 
chase.  They  left  the  trail  and  circled  toward  the  shore, 
the  driver  standing  erect  upon  the  heels  of  the  runners, 
guiding  his  team  with  wide-flung  gestures  and  sharp 
cries,  the  rush  of  air  fluttering  the  many  squirrel- tails 
of  his  parka  like  fairy  streamers. 

As  they  dashed  past,  both  white  men  had  one  fleeting 
glimpse  of  a  woman's  face  beneath  a  furred  hood, 
and  then  it  was  gone.  For  a  moment  they  stood 
and  stared  after  the  fast-dwindling  team,  while  the 
breath  of  the  Arctic  sea  stiffened  their  garments  and 
froze  their  boot-soles  to  the  ice. 

8 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Did  you  see?"  Fraser  ejaculated.  "Good  Lord, 
it's  a  woman!  A  blonde  woman!" 

Emerson  stirred  himself.  "Nonsense!  She  must 
be  a  breed,"  said  he. 

"  Breeds  don't  have  yellow  hair!"  declared  the  other. 

Swiftly  they  bent  in  the  free  dogs  and  lashed  the 
team  to  a  run.  They  felt  the  chill  of  death  in  their 
bones,  and  instead  of  riding  they  ran  with  the  sled  till 
their  blood  beat  painfully.  Their  outer  coverings  were 
like  shells,  their  underclothes  were  soaked,  and  although 
their  going  was  difficult  and  clumsy,  they  dared  not 
stop,  for  this  is  the  extremest  peril  of  the  North. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  swung  over  the  river-bank 
and  into  the  midst  of  great  rambling  frame  buildings, 
seen  dimly  through  the  falling  snow.  Their  trail  led 
them  to  a  high-banked  cabin,  from  the  stovepipe  of 
which  they  saw  heat-waves  pouring.  The  dogs  broke 
into  cry,  and  were  answered  by  many  others  conjured 
from  their  hiding-places.  Both  men  were  greatly  dis 
tressed  by  now,  and  could  handle  themselves  only 
with  difficulty.  Another  mile  would  have  meant  dis 
aster. 

"  Rout  out  the  owner  and  tell  him  we're  wet,"  said 
Emerson;  "I'll  free  the  dogs." 

As  Fraser  disappeared,  the  young  man  ran  forward 
to  slip  the  harness  from  his  animals,  but  found  it  frozen 
into  their  fur,  the  knots  and  buckles  transformed  into 
unmanageable  lumps  of  ice,  so  he  wrenched  the  camp 
axe  from  the  sled  and  cut  the  thongs,  then  hacked  loose 
the  stiff  sled-lashings,  seized  the  sodden  sleeping-bags, 
and  made  for  the  house.  A  traveller's  first  concern 
is  for  his  dogs,  then  for  his  bedding. 

Before  he  could  reach  the  cabin  the  door  opened  and 
Fraser  appeared,  a  strange,  dazed  look  on  his  face.  He 

9 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

was  followed  by  a  large  man  of  coarse  and  sullen  coun 
tenance,  who  paused  on  the  threshold. 

"  Don't  bother  with  the  rest  of  the  stuff,"  Emerson 
chattered. 

"  It's  no  use,"  Fraser  replied;  "we  can't  go  in." 

The  former  paused,  forgetting  the  cold  in  his  amaze 
ment. 

' '  What's  wrong  ?     Somebody  sick  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter.  This  man  just 
says  'nix,'  that's  all." 

The  fellow,  evidently  a  watchman,  nodded  his  head 
and  growled,  "  Yaas!  Ay  got  no  room." 

"  But  you  don't  understand,"  said  Emerson.  "  We're 
wet.  We  broke  through  the  ice.  Never  mind  the 
room,  we'll  get  along  somehow."  He  advanced  with 
the  tight-rolled  sleeping-bags  under  his  arm,  but  the 
man  stood  immovable,  blocking  the  entrance. 

"You  can't  come  in  har!  You  find  anoder  house 
t'ree  mile  furder." 

The  traveller,  however,  paid  no  heed  to  these  words, 
but  pushed  forward,  shifting  the  bundle  to  his  shoulder 
and  holding  it  so  that  it  was  thrust  into  the  Swede's 
face.  Involuntarily  the  watchman  drew  back,  where 
upon  the  unwelcome  visitor  crowded  past,  jostling 
his  inhospitable  host  roughly,  laughing  the  while,  al 
though  in  his  laughter  there  rang  a  dangerous  metallic 
note.  Emerson's  quick  action  gained  him  entrance 
and  Fraser  followed  behind  into  the  living-room,  where  a 
flat-nosed  squaw  withdrew  before  them.  The  young  man 
flung  down  his  burden,  and  addressed  her  peremptorily. 

"Punch  up  that  fire,  and  get  us  something  to  eat, 
quick!"  Turning  to  the  owner  of  the  house,  who 
lumbered  in  after  them,  he  disregarded  the  fellow's 
scowl,  and  said: 

10 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Why,  you've  got  lots  of  room,  old  man!  We'll 
pay  our  way.  Now  get  some  more  firewood,  will  you  ? 
I'm  chilled  to  the  bone.  That's  a  good  fellow."  His 
forceful  heartiness  forbade  dispute,  and  the  man  obeyed, 
sourly. 

The  two  new-comers  stripped  off  their  outer  clothing, 
and  in  a  trice  the  small  room  became  littered  and  hung 
with  steaming  garments.  They  took  possession  of  the 
house,  and  ordered  the  Swede  and  his  squaw  about  with 
firm  good  nature,  until  the  couple  slunk  into  an  inner 
room  and  began  to  talk  in  low  tones. 

Fraser  had  been  watching  the  fellow,  and  now  re 
marked  to  his  companion: 

"Say,  what  ails  that  ginney?" 

The  assumption  of  good- nature  fell  away  from  Boyd 
Emerson  as  he  replied : 

"  I  never  knew  anybody  to  refuse  shelter  to  freezing 
men  before.  There's  something  back  of  this — he's  got 
some  reason  for  his  refusal.  I  don't  want  any  trouble, 
but—" 

The  inner  door  opened,  and  the  watchman  reappeared. 
Evidently  his  sluggish  resolution  had  finally  set  itself. 

"  You  can't  stop  har!"  he  said.     "Ay  got  orders." 

Emerson  was  at  the  fire,  busy  rubbing  the  cramps 
from  his  arms,  and  did  not  answer.  When  Fraser 
likewise  ignored  the  Swede,  he  repeated  his  command, 
louder  this  time. 

"Get  out  of  may  house,  quick!" 

Both  men  kept  their  backs  turned  and  continued 
to  ignore  him,  at  which  the  fellow  advanced  heavily, 
and  threatened  them  in  a  big,  raucous  voice,  trembling 
with  rage: 

"By  Yingo,  Ay  trow  you  out!" 

He  stooped  and  gathered  up  the  garments  nearest 
ii 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

him,  then  stepped  toward  the  outer  door;  but  before 
he  could  make  good  his  threat,  Emerson  whirled  like 
a  cat,  his  deep-set  eyes  dark  with  sudden  fury,  and  seized 
his  host  by  the  nape  of  the  neck.  He  jerked  him  back 
so  roughly  that  the  wet  clothes  flapped  to  the  floor  in 
four  directions,  whereat  the  Scandinavian  let  forth  a 
bellow;  but  Emerson  struck  him  heavily  on  the  jaw 
with  his  open  hand,  then  hurled  him  backward  into  the 
room  so  violently  that  he  reeled,  and  his  legs  colliding 
with  a  bench,  he  fell  against  the  wall.  Before  he  could 
recover,  his  assailant  stepped  in  between  his  wide- 
flung  hands  and  throttled  him,  beating  his  head  violent 
ly  against  the  logs.  The  fellow  undertook  to  grapple 
with  him,  at  which  Emerson  wrenched  himself  free,  and, 
stepping  back,  spoke  in  a  quivering  voice  which  Fraser 
had  never  heard  before : 

"  I'm  just  playing  with  you  now — I  don't  want  to 
hurt  you." 

"Get  out  of  my  house!  Ay  got  orders!"  cried  the 
watchman  wildly,  and  made  for  him  again.  It  was 
evident  that  the  man  was  not  lacking  in  stupid  courage, 
but  Emerson,  driven  to  it,  stepped  aside,  and  swung 
heavily.  The  squaw  in  the  doorway  screamed,  and  the 
Swede  fell  full  length.  Again  Boyd  was  upon  him, 
the  restraint  of  the  past  long  weeks  now  unbridled,  his 
temper  unchecked.  He  dragged  his  victim  through 
the  store-room,  grinding  his  face  into  the  floor  at  every 
effort  to  rise.  He  forced  him  to  his  own  door-sill,  jerked 
the  door  open,  and  kicked  him  out  into  the  snow; 
then  barred  the  entrance,  and  returned  to  the  warmth 
of  the  logs,  his  face  convulsed  and  his  lips  working. 

"Fingerless"  Fraser  gazed  at  him  queerly,  as  if  at 
some  utterly  strange  phenomenon,  then  drawled,  with 
a  sly  chuckle: 

12 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Well,  well,  you're  bloody  gentle,  I  must  say.  I 
didn't  think  it  was  in  you." 

When  the  other  vouchsafed  no  answer,  he  took  his 
pipe  from  a  pocket  of  his  steaming  mackinaw,  and  filled 
it  from  a  tobacco-box  on  the  window-sill;  then,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  he  propped  his  feet  up  on  the  table 
and  sighed  luxuriously,  as  he  murmured : 

"These  scenes  of  violence  just  upset  me  something 
dreadful!" 


CHAPTER  II 

IN   WHICH  THEY   BREAK  BREAD   WITH  A  LONELY  WOMAN 

IT  was  perhaps  two  hours  later  that  Fraser  went  to 
the  window  for  the  twentieth  time,  and,  breathing 
against  the  pane,  cleared  a  peep-hole,  announcing: 

"  He's  gone!" 

Emerson,  absorbed  in  a  book,  made  no  answer. 
After  his  encounter  with  the  householder  he  had  said 
little,  and  upon  finding  this  coverless,  brown-stained 
volume — a  tattered  copy  of  Don  Quixote — he  had  re 
lapsed  into  utter  silence. 

"  I  say,  he's  gone!"  reiterated  the  man  at  the  window. 

Still  no  reply  was  forthcoming,  and,  seating  himself 
near  the  stove,  Fraser  spread  his  hands  before  him  in 
the  shape  of  a  book,  and  began  whimsically,  in  a  dry 
monotone,  as  if  reading  to  himself : 

"At  which  startling  news,  Mr.  Emerson,  with  his 
customary  vivacity,  smiled  engagingly,  and  answered 
back: 

" '  Why  do  you  reckon  he  has  departed,  Mr.  Fraser  ?' 

"Because  he's  lost  his  voice  cussing  us,'  I  replied, 
graciously. 

"'Oh  no!'  exclaimed  the  genial  Mr.  Emerson,  more 
for  the  sake  of  conversation  than  argument;  'he  has 
got  cold  feet!'  Evidently  unwilling  to  let  the  con 
versation  lag,  the  garrulous  Mr.  Emerson  continued, 

14 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

'It's  a  dark  night  without,  and  I  fear  some  mischief 
is  afoot.' 

'"Yes;  but  what  of  yonder  beautchous  gel?'  said  I, 
at  which  he  burst  into  wild  laughter." 

Emerson  laid  down  his  book. 

"What  are  you  muttering  about?"  he  asked. 

"  I  merely  remarked  that  our  scandalized  Scanda- 
lusian  has  got  tired  of  singin'  Won't  You  Open  that 
Door  and  Let  Me  In?  and  has  ducked." 

"Where  has  he  gone?" 

"I  ain't  no  mind-reader;  maybe  he's  loped  off  to 
Seattle  after  a  policeman  and  a  writ  of  ne  plus  ultra. 
Maybe  he  has  gone  after  a  clump  of  his  countrymen— 
this  is  herding-season  for  Swedes." 

Without  answering,  Emerson  rose,  and,  going  to  the 
inner  door,  called  through  to  the  squaw: 

"  Get  us  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"Coffee!"  interjected  Fraser;  "why  not  have  a  real 
feed  ?  I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  anything  except  salt- 
risin'  bread  and  Roquefort  cheese." 

"No,"  said  the  other;  "I  don't  want  to  cause  any 
more  trouble  than  necessary." 

"  Well,  there's  a  lot  of  grub  in  the  cache.  Let's  load 
up  the  sled." 

"  I'm  hardly  a  thief." 

"Oh,  but—" 

-Nor 

"Fingerless"  Fraser  fell  back  into  sour  silence. 

When  the  slatternly  woman  had  slunk  forth  and  was 
busied  at  the  stove,  Emerson  observed,  musingly: 

"I  wonder  what  possessed  that  fellow  to  act  as  he 
did." 

"  He  said  he  had  orders,"  Fraser  offered.     "  If  I  had 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

a  warm  cabin,  a  lot  of  grub — and  a  squaw — I'd  like  to 
see  somebody  give  me  orders." 

Their  clothing  was  dry  now,  and  they  proceeded  to 
dress  leisurely.  As  Emerson  roped  up  the  sleeping- 
bags,  Fraser  suddenly  suspended  operations  on  his 
attire,  and  asked,  querulously: 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  We  ain't  goin'  to  move, 
are  we?" 

"Yes.  We'll  make  for  one  of  the  other  canneries," 
answered  Emerson,  without  looking  up. 

"  But  I've  got  sore  feet,"  complained  the  adventurer. 

"What!  again?"  Emerson  laughed  skeptically. 
"  Better  walk  on  your  hands  for  a  while." 

"And  it's  getting  dark,  too." 

"  Never  mind.     It  can't  be  far.     Come  now." 

He  urged  the  fellow  as  he  had  repeatedly  urged 
him  before,  for  Fraser  seemed  to  have  the  blood  of  a 
tramp  in  his  veins;  then  he  tried  to  question  the  woman, 
but  she  maintained  a  frightened  silence.  When  they 
had  finished  their  coffee,  Emerson  laid  two  silver 
dollars  on  the  table,  and  they  left  the  house  to  search 
out  the  river-trail  again. 

The  early  darkness,  hastened  by  the  storm,  was  upon 
them  when  they  crept  up  the  opposite  bank  an  hour 
later,  and  through  the  gloom  beheld  a  group  of  great 
shadowy  buildings.  Approaching  the  solitary  gleam 
of  light  shining  from  the  window  of  the  watchman's 
house,  they  applied  to  him  for  shelter. 

"  We  are  just  off  a  long  trip,  and  our  dogs  are  played 
out,"  Emerson  explained.  "We'll  pay  well  for  a  place 
to  rest." 

"  You  can't  stop  here,"  said  the  fellow,  gruffly. 

"Why  not?" 


I've  got  no  room." 


16 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Is  there  a  road-house  near  by?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You'd  better  find  out  mighty  quick,"  retorted  the 
young  man,  with  rising  temper  at  the  other's  dis 
courtesy. 

"Try  the  next  place  below,"  said  the  watchman, 
hurriedly,  slamming  the  door  in  their  faces  and  bolting 
it.  Once  secure  behind  his  barricade,  he  added:  "If 
he  won't  let  you  in,  maybe  the  priest  can  take  care  of 
you  at  the  Mission." 

"This  here  town  of  Kalvik  is  certainly  overjoyed 
at  our  arrival,"  said  Fraser,  "ain't  it?" 

But  his  irate  companion  made  no  comment,  whereat, 
sensing  the  anger  behind  his  silence,  the  speaker,  for 
once,  failed  to  extemporize  an  answer  to  his  own 
remark. 

At  the  next  stop  they  encountered  the  same  gruff 
show  of  inhospitality,  and  all  they  could  elicit  from 
the  shock-headed  proprietor  was  another  direction,  in 
broken  English,  to  try  the  Russian  priest. 

"I'll  make  one  more  try,"  said  Emerson,  between  his 
teeth,  gratingly,  as  they  swung  out  into  the  darkness 
a  second  time.  "  If  that  doesn't  succeed,  then  I'll  take 
possession  again.  I  won't  be  passed  on  all  night  this 
way." 

"The  'buck'  will  certainly  show  us  to  the  straw," 
said  "  Fingerless"  Fraser. 

"The  what?" 

"The  'buck'— the  sky-dog— oh,  the  priest!" 

But  when,  a  mile  farther  on,  they  drew  up  before 
a  white  pile  surmounted  by  a  dimly  discerned  Greek 
cross,  no  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen,  and  their  signals 
awakened  no  response. 

"Gone! — and  they  knew  it." 
17 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

The  vicious  manner  in  which  Emerson  handled  his 
whip  as  he  said  the  words  betrayed  his  state  of  mind. 
Three  weeks  of  unvarying  hardship  and  toilsome  travel 
had  worn  out  both  men,  and  rendered  them  well-nigh 
desperate.  Hence  they  wasted  no  words  when,  for 
the  fourth  time,  their  eyes  caught  the  welcome  sight 
of  a  shining  radiance  in  the  gloom  of  the  gathering 
night.  The  trail-weary  team  stopped  of  its  own  accord. 

"Unhitch!"  ordered  Emerson,  doggedly,  as  he  began 
to  untie  the  ropes  of  the  sled.  He  shouldered  the 
sleeping-bags,  and  made  toward  the  light  that  filtered 
through  the  crusted  windows,  followed  by  Fraser 
similarly  burdened.  But  as  they  approached  they  saw 
at  once  that  this  was  no  cannery;  it  looked  more  like 
a  road-house  or  trading-post,  for  the  structure  was  low 
and  it  was  built  of  logs.  Behind  and  connected  with 
it  by  a  covered  hall  or  passageway  crouched  another 
squat  building  of  the  same  character,  its  roof  piled 
thick  with  a  mass  of  snow,  its  windows  glowing.  Those 
warm  squares  of  light,  set  into  the  black  walls  and  over 
hung  by  white-burdened  eaves,  gave  the  place  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  Christmas-card,  it  was  so  snug  and  cozy. 
Even  the  glitter  was  there,  caused  by  the  rays  refracted 
from  the  facets  of  the  myriad  frost-crystals. 

They  mounted  the  steps  of  the  nigh  building,  and, 
without  knocking,  flung  the  door  open,  entered,  then 
tossed  their  bundles  to  the  floor.  With  a  sharp  ex 
clamation  at  this  unceremonious  intrusion,  an  Indian 
woman,  whom  they  had  surprised,  dropped  her  task 
and  regarded  them,  round-eyed. 

"We're  all  right  this  time,"  observed  Emerson,  as 
he  swept  the  place  with  his  eyes.  "  It's  a  store."  Then 
to  the  woman  he  said,  briefly:  "We  want  a  bed  and 
something  to  eat." 

18 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

On  every  side  the  walls  were  shelved  with  mer 
chandise,  while  the  counter  carried  a  supply  of  clothing, 
skins,  and  what  not;  a  cylindrical  stove  in  the  centre  of 
the  room  emanated  a  hot,  red  glow. 

"This  looks  like  the  Waldorf  to  me,"  said  "Finger- 
less"  Eraser,  starting  to  remove  his  parka,  the  fox 
fringe  on  the  hood  of  which  was  white  from  his  breath. 

"What  you  want?"  demanded  the  squaw,  coming 
forward. 

Boyd,  likewise  divesting  himself  of  his  furs,  noticed 
that  she  was  little  more  than  a  girl — a  native,  undoubt 
edly  ;  but  she  was  neatly  dressed,  her  skin  was  light,  and 
her  hair  twisted  into  a  smooth  black  knot  at  the  back 
of  her  head. 

"Food!     Sleep!"  he  replied  to  her  question. 

"  You  can't  stop  here,"  the  girl  asserted,  firmly. 

"Oh  yes,  we  can,"  said  Emerson.  "You  have 
plenty  of  room,  and  there's  lots  of  food" — he  indicated 
the  shelves  of  canned  goods. 

The  squaw,  without  moving,  raised  her  voice  and 
called:  "  Constantine !  Constantine !" 

A  door  in  the  farther  shadows  opened,  and  the  tall 
figure  of  a  man  emerged,  advancing  swiftly,  his  soft 
soles  noiseless  beneath  him. 

"Well,  well!  It's  old  Squirrel-Tail,"  cried  Fraser. 
"  Good-evening,  Constantine." 

It  was  the  copper-hued  native  who  had  rescued  them 
from  the  river  earlier  in  the  day ;  but  although  he  must 
have  recognized  them,  his  demeanor  had  no  welcome 
in  it.  The  Indian  girl  broke  into  a  torrent  of  excited 
volubility,  unintelligible  to  the  white  men. 

"You  no  stop  here,"  said  Constantine,  finally;  and, 
making  toward  the  outer  door,  he  flung  it  open,  point 
ing  out  into  the  night. 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  We've  come  a  long  way,  and  we're  tired,"  Emerson 
argued,  pacifically.  "We'll  pay  you  well." 

Const  an  tine  only  replied  with  added  firmness, 
"No,"  to  which  the  other  retorted  with  a  flash  of 
rising  anger,  "  Yes!" 

He  faced  the  Indian  with  his  back  to  the  stove,  his 
voice  taking  on  a  determined  note.  "  We  won't  leave 
here  until  we  are  ready.  We're  tired,  and  we're  going 
to  stay  here — do  you  understand?  Now  tell  your 
'klootch'  to  get  us  some  supper.  Quick!" 

The  breed's  face  blazed.  Without  closing  the  door, 
he  moved  directly  upon  the  interloper,  his  design  rec 
ognizable  in  his  threatening  attitude;  but  before  he 
could  put  his  plan  into  execution,  a  soft  voice  from 
the  rear  of  the  room  halted  him. 

"  Const  ant  ine,"  it  said. 

The  travellers  whirled  to  see,  standing  out  in  relief 
against  the  darkness  of  the  passage  whence  the  Indian 
had  just  come  a  few  seconds  before,  the  golden-haired 
girl  of  the  storm,  to  whom  they  had  been  indebted  for 
their  rescue.  She  advanced,  smiling  pleasantly,  en 
joying  their  surprise. 

"What  is  the  trouble?" 

"These  men  no  stop  here!"  cried  Constantine  violent 
ly.  "You  speak!  I  make  them  go." 

"I — I — beg  pardon,"  began  Emerson.  "We  didn't 
intend  to  take  forcible  possession,  but  we're  played  out 
— we've  been  denied  shelter  everywhere — we  felt 
desperate — " 

"You  tried  the  canneries  above?"  interrupted  the 
girl. 

"  Yes." 

"And  they  referred  you  to  the  priest?  Quite  so." 
She  laughed  softly,  her  voice  a  mellow  contralto.  "  The 

20 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Father  has  been  gone  for  a  month;  he  wouldn't  have  let 
you  in  if  he'd  been  there." 

She  addressed  the  Indian  girl  in  Aleut  and  signalled 
to  Constantine,  at  which  the  two  natives  retired— 
Constantine  reluctantly,  like  a  watch  -  dog  whose 
suspicions  are  not  fully  allayed. 

"  We're  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  thank  you  for  your 
timely  service  this  afternoon,"  said  Emerson.  "  Had 
we  known  you  lived  here,  we  certainly  should  not  have 
intruded  in  this  manner."  He  found  himself  growing 
hotly  uncomfortable  as  he  began  to  realize  the  nature  of 
his  position,  but  the  young  woman  spared  him  further 
apologies  by  answering,  carelessly: 

"Oh,  that  was  nothing.  I've  been  expecting  you 
hourly.  You  see,  Constantine's  little  brother  has  the 
measles,  and  I  had  to  get  to  him  before  the  natives  could 
give  the  poor  little  fellow  a  Russian  bath  and  then 
stand  him  out  in  the  snow.  They  have  only  one 
treatment  for  all  diseases.  That's  why  I  didn't  stop 
and  give  you  more  explicit  directions  this  morn 
ing." 

"If  your — er — father — "     The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  your  husband — I  should  like  to  arrange  with 
him  to  hire  lodgings  for  a  few  days.  The  matter  of 
money — " 

Again  she  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  I  am  the  man  of  the  house.  I'm  boss  here.  This 
splendor  is  all  mine."  She  waved  a  slender  white 
hand  majestically  at  the  rough  surroundings,  laughing 
in  a  way  that  put  Boyd  Emerson  more  at  his  ease. 
"  You  are  quite  welcome  to  stay  as  long  as  you  wish. 
Constantine  objects  to  my  hospitality,  and  treats  all 
strangers  alike,  fearing  they  may  be  Company  men. 
When  you  didn't  arrive  at  dark,  I  thought  perhaps  he 

21 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

was  right  this  time,  and  that  you  had  been  taken  in  by 
one  of  the  watchmen." 

"  We  thro  wed  a  Swede  out  on  his  neck,"  declared 
Fraser,  swelling  with  conscious  importance,  "  and  I 
guess  he's  'crabbed'  us  with  the  other  squareheads." 

"Oh,  no!  They  have  instructions  not  to  harbor 
any  travellers.  It's  as  much  as  his  job  is  worth  for 
any  of  them  to  entertain  you.  Now,  won't  you  make 
yourselves  at  home  while  Constantine  attends  to  your 
dogs?  Dinner  will  soon  be  ready,  and  I  hope  you  will 
do  me  the  honor  of  dining  with  me,"  she  finished,  with  a 
graciousness  that  threw  Emerson  into  fresh  confusion. 

He  murmured  "Gladly,"  and  then  lost  himself  in 
wonder  at  this  well-gowned  girl  living  amid  such  sur 
roundings.  Undeniably  pretty,  graceful  in  her  move 
ments,  bearing  herself  with  certainty  and  poise — who 
was  she  ?  Where  did  she  come  from  ?  And  what  in 
the  world  was  she  doing  here  ? 

He  became  aware  that  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser  was  mak 
ing  the  introductions.  " This  is  Mr.  Emerson;  my  name 
is  French.  I'm  one  of  the  Virginia  Frenches,  you 
know;  perhaps  you  have  heard  of  them.  No?  Well, 
they're  the  real  thing." 

The  girl  bowed,  but  Emerson  forestalled  her 
acknowledgment  by  breaking  in  roughly,  with  a  threat 
ening  scowl  at  the  adventurer: 

"His  name  isn't  French  at  all,  Madam;  it's  Fraser — 
'Fingerless'  Fraser.  He's  an  utterly  worthless  rogue, 
and  absolutely  unreliable  so  far  as  I  can  learn.  I 
picked  him  up  on  the  ice  in  Norton  Sound,  with  a 
marshal  at  his  heels." 

"That  marshal  wasn't  after  me,"  stoutly  denied 
Fraser,  quite  unabashed.  "Why,  he's  a  friend  of 
mine — we're  regular  chums — everybody  knows  that. 

22 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

He  wanted  to  give  me  some  papers  to  take  outside, 
that's  all." 

Boyd  shrugged  his  shoulders  indifferently: 

"Warrants!" 

"  Not  at  all!     Not  at  all!"  airily. 

Their  hostess,  greatly  amused  at  this  remarkable 
turn  of  the  ceremony,  prevented  any  further  argument 
by  saying: 

"  Well,  French  or  Fraser,  whichever  it  is,  you  are 
both  welcome.  However,  I  should  prefer  to  think 
of  you  as  a  runaway  rather  than  as  an  intimate 
friend  of  the  marshal  at  Nome;  I  happen  to  know 
him." 

"  Well,  we  ain't  what  you'd  exactly  call  pals,"  Fraser 
hastily  disclaimed.  "  I  just  sort  of  bow  to  him  " — he 
gave  an  imitation  of  a  slight,  indifferent  headshake 
— "  that  way!" 

"I  see,"  commented  their  hostess,  quizzically;  then 
recalling  herself,  she  continued:  "I  should  have  made 
myself  known  before;  I  am  Miss  Malotte." 

"Ch—  "  began  the  crook,  then  shut  his  lips  abruptly, 
darting  a  shrewd  glance  at  the  girl.  Emerson  saw 
their  eyes  meet,  and  fancied  that  the  woman's  smile 
sat  a  trifle  unnaturally  on  her  lips,  while  the  delicate 
coloring  of  her  face  changed  imperceptibly.  As  the 
fellow  mumbled  some  acknowledgment,  she  turned  to 
the  younger  man,  inquiring  impersonally: 

"  I  suppose  you  are  bound  for  the  States?" 

"  Yes;  we  intend  to  catch  the  mail-boat  at  Katmai. 
I  am  taking  Fraser  along  for  company ;  it's  hard  travel 
ling  alone  in  a  strange  country.  He's  a  nuisance,  but 
he's  rather  amusing  at  times." 

"  I  certainly  am,"  agreed  that  cheerful  person,  now 
fully  at  his  ease.  "I've  a  bad  memory  for  names!" 
3  23 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

— he  looked  queerly  at  his  hostess — "but  I'm  very 
amusing,  very!" 

"Not  'very,'"  corrected  Emerson. 

Then  they  talked  of  the  trail,  the  possibilities  of 
securing  supplies,  and  of  hiring  a  guide.  By-and-by 
the  girl  rose,  and  after  showing  them  to  a  room,  she 
excused  herself  on  the  score  of  having  to  see  to  the 
dinner.  When  she  had  withdrawn,  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser 
pursed  his  thin  lips  into  a  noiseless  whistle,  then 
observed: 

"Well,  I'll— be— cussed!" 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Emerson,  in  a  low,  eager  tone. 
"Do  you  know?" 

"You  heard,  didn't  you?  She's  Miss  Malotte,  and 
she's  certainly  some  considerable  lady." 

The  same  look  that  Emerson  had  noted  when  their 
hostess  introduced  herself  to  them  flitted  again  into  the 
crook's  unsteady  eyes. 

"Yes,  but  who  is  she?  What  does  this  mean?" 
Emerson  pointed  to  the  provisions  and  fittings  about 
them.  "  What  is  she  doing  here  alone  ?" 

"  Maybe  you'd  better  ask  her  yourself,"  said  Fraser. 

For  the  first  time  in  their  brief  acquaintance,  Emer 
son  detected  a  strange  note  in  the  rogue's  voice,  but 
it  was  too  slight  to  provoke  reply,  so  he  brushed  it  aside 
and  prepared  himself  for  dinner. 

The  Indian  girl  summoned  them,  and  they  followed 
her  through  the  long  passageway  into  the  other  house, 
where,  to  their  utter  astonishment,  they  seemed  to  step 
out  of  the  frontier  and  into  the  heart  of  civilization. 
They  found  a  tiny  dining-room,  perfectly  appointed, 
in  the  centre  of  which,  wonder  of  wonders,  was  a  round 
table  gleaming  like  a  deep  mahogany  pool,  upon  the 
surface  of  which  floated  gauzy  hand-worked  napery, 

24 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

glinting  silver,  and  sparkling  crystal,  the  dark  polish 
of  the  wood  reflecting  the  light  from  shaded  candles. 
It  held  a  delicately  figured  service  of  blue  and  gold, 
while  the  selection  of  thin-stemmed  glasses  all  in  rows 
indicated  the  character  of  the  entertainment  that 
awaited  them.  The  men's  eyes  were  too  busy  with  the 
unaccustomed  sight  to  note  details  carefully,  but  they 
felt  soft  carpet  beneath  their  feet  and  observed  that 
the  walls  were  smooth  and  harmoniously  papered. 

When  one  has  lived  long  in  the  rough  where  things 
come  with  the  husk  on,  he  fancies  himself  weaned 
away  from  the  dainty,  the  beautiful,  and  the  artistic; 
after  years  of  a  skillet-and-sheath-knife  existence  he 
grows  to  feel  a  scorn  for  the  finer,  softer,  inconsequent 
trifles  of  the  past,  only  to  find,  of  a  sudden,  that,  un 
known  to  him  perhaps,  his  soul  has  been  hungering  for 
them  all  the  while.  The  feel  of  cool  linen  comes  like 
the  caress  of  a  forgotten  sweetheart,  the  tinkle  of  glass 
and  silver  are  so  many  chiming  fairy  bells  inviting  him 
back  into  the  foretime  days.  And  so  these  two  un 
kempt  men,  toughened  and  browned  to  the  texture  of 
leather  by  wind  and  snow,  brought  by  trail  and  camp- 
fire  to  disregard  ceremony  and  look  upon  mealtime 
as  an  unsatisfying,  irksome  period,  stood  speechless, 
affording  the  girl  the  feminine  pleasure  of  enjoying 
their  discomfiture. 

"This  is  m — marvelous,"  murmured  Emerson,  sud 
denly  conscious  of  his  rough  clothing,  his  fur  boots, 
and  his  hands  cracked  by  frost.  "  I'm  afraid  we're 
not  in  keeping." 

"  Indeed  you  are,"  said  the  girl,  "and  I  am  delighted 
to  have  somebody  to  talk  to.  It's  very  lonesome  here, 
month  after  month." 

"This  is  certainly  a  swell  tepee,"  Eraser  remarked, 
25 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

staring  about  in  open  admiration.  "How  did  you 
do  it?" 

"  I  brought  my  things  with  me  from  Nome." 

"Nome!"  ejaculated  Emerson,  quickly. 

"Yes." 

"Why,  I've  been  in  Nome  ever  since  the  camp  was 
discovered.  It's  strange  we  never  met." 

"I  didn't  stay  there  very  long;  I  went  back  to 
Dawson." 

Again  he  fancied  the  girl's  eyes  held  a  vague  challenge, 
but  he  could  not  be  sure;  for  she  seated  him,  and  then 
gave  some  instructions  to  the  Aleut  girl,  who  had 
entered  noiselessly.  It  was  the  strangest  meal  Boyd 
Emerson  had  ever  eaten,  for  here,  in  a  forgotten  corner 
of  an  unknown  land,  hidden  behind  high-banked  log 
walls,  he  partook  of  a  perfect  dinner,  well  served,  and 
presided  over  by  a  gracious,  richly  gowned  young 
woman  who  talked  interestingly  on  many  subjects. 
For  a  second  time  he  lost  himself  in  a  maze  of  con 
jecture.  Who  was  she  ?  What  was  her  mission  here  ? 
Why  was  she  alone?  But  not  for  long;  he  was  too 
heavily  burdened  by  the  responsibility  and  care  of  his 
own  affairs  to  waste  much  time  by  the  way  on  those 
of  other  people;  and  becoming  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  he  grew  more  silent  as  the  signs  of  refine 
ment  and  civilization  about  him  revived  memories 
long  stifled.  Fraser,  on  the  contrary,  warmed  by  the 
wine,  blossomed  like  the  rose,  and  talked  garrulously, 
recounting  marvellous  stories,  as  improbable  as  they 
were  egotistical.  He  monopolized  his  hostess'  atten 
tion,  the  while  his  companion  became  more  preoccu 
pied,  more  self-contained,  almost  sullen. 

This  was  not  the  effect  for  which  the  girl  had  striven ; 
her  younger  guest's  taciturnity,  which  grew  as  the 

26 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

dinner  progressed,  piqued  her,  so  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity  she  bent  her  efforts  toward  rallying  him.  He 
answered  politely,  but  she  was  powerless  to  shake  off 
his  mood.  It  was  not  abashment,  as  she  realized  when, 
from  the  corner  of  her  eye,  she  observed  him  covertly 
stroke  the  linen  and  finger  the  silver  as  if  to  renew  a 
sense  of  touch  long  unused.  Being  unaccustomed  to 
any  sort  of  indifference  in  men,  his  spiritless  demeanor 
put  her  on  her  mettle,  yet  all  to  no  avail;  she  could  not 
find  a  seam  in  that  mask  of  listless  abstraction.  At 
last  he  spoke  of  his  own  accord : 

"  You  said  those  watchmen  have  instructions  not  to 
harbor  travellers.  Why  is  that?" 

"  It  is  the  policy  of  the  Companies.  They  are  afraid 
somebody  will  discover  gold  around  here." 

"Yes?" 

"  You  see,  this  is  the  greatest  salmon  river  in  the 
world;  the  'run'  is  tremendous,  and  seems  to  be  un 
failing;  hence  the  cannery  people  wish  to  keep  it  all  to 
themselves." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand— 

"  It  is  simple  enough.  Kalvik  is  so  isolated  and  the 
fishing  season  is  so  short  that  the  Companies  have  to 
send  their  crews  in  from  the  States  and  take  them  out 
again  every  summer.  Now,  if  gold  were  discovered 
hereabouts,  the  fishermen  would  all  quit  and  follow 
the  'strike,'  which  would  mean  the  ruin  of  the  year's 
catch  and  the  loss  of  many  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars,  for  there  is  no  way  of  importing  new  help 
during  the  short  summer  months.  Why,  this  village 
would  become  a  city  in  no  time  if  such  a  thing  were  to 
happen;  the  whole  region  would  fill  up  with  miners, 
and  not  only  would  labor  conditions  be  entirely  upset 
for  years,  but  the  eyes  of  the  world,  being  turned  this 

27 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

way,  other  people  might  go  into  the  fishing  business  and 
create  a  competition  which  would  both  influence  prices 
and  deplete  the  supply  of  fish  in  the  Kalvik  River. 
So  you  see  there  are  many  reasons  why  this  region  is 
forbidden  to  miners." 

"I  see." 

"  You  couldn't  buy  a  pound  of  food  nor  get  a  night's 
lodging  here  for  a  king's  ransom.  The  watchmen's 
jobs  depend  upon  their  unbroken  bond  of  inhospitality, 
and  the  Indians  dare  not  sell  you  anything,  not  even  a 
dogfish,  under  penalty  of  starvation,  for  they  are  de 
pendent  upon  the  Companies'  stores." 

"  So  that  is  why  you  have  established  a  trading-post 
of  your  own?" 

"Oh  dear,  no.  This  isn't  a  store.  This  food  is 
for  my  men." 

"Your  men?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  crew  out  in  the  hills  on  a  grub-stake. 
This  is  our  cache.  While  they  prospect  for  gold,  I 
stand  guard  over  the  provisions." 

Eraser  chuckled  softly.  "  Then  you  are  bucking  the 
Salmon  Trust?" 

"After  a  fashion,  yes.  I  knew  this  country  had 
never  been  gone  over,  so  I  staked  six  men,  chartered  a 
schooner,  and  came  down  here  from  Nome  in  the  early 
spring.  We  stood  off  the  watchmen,  and  when  the 
supply-ships  arrived,  we  had  these  houses  completed, 
and  my  men  were  out  in  the  hills  where  it  was  hard  to 
follow  them.  I  stayed  behind,  and  stood  the  brunt  of 
things." 

"But  surely  they  didn't  undertake  to  injure  you?" 
said  Emerson,  now  thoroughly  interested  in  this  ex 
traordinary  young  woman. 

"Oh,  didn't  they!"  she  answered,  with  a  peculiar 
28 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

laugh.  "  You  don't  appreciate  the  character  of  these 
people.  When  a  man  fights  for  money,  just  plain, 
sordid  money,  he  loses  all  sense  of  honor,  chivalry,  and 
decency,  he  employs  any  means  that  come  handy. 
There  is  no  real  code  of  financial  morality,  and  the 
battle  for  dollars  is  the  bitterest  of  all  contests.  Of 
course,  being  a  woman,  they  couldn't  very  well  attack 
me  personally,  but  they  tried  everything  except 
physical  violence,  and  I  don't  know  how  long  they  will 
refrain  from  that.  These  plants  are  owned  separately, 
but  they  operate  under  an  agreement,  with  one  man 
at  the  head.  His  name  is  Marsh — Willis  Marsh,  and, 
of  course,  he's  not  my  friend." 

"Sort  of  'United  we  stand,  divided  we  fall."1 

"Exactly.  That  spreads  the  responsibility,  and 
seems  to  leave  nobody  guilty  for  their  evil  deeds.  The 
first  thing  they  did  was  to  sink  my  schooner — in  the 
morning  you  will  see  her  spars  sticking  up  through  the 
ice  out  in  front  there.  One  of  their  tugs  *  accidentally' 
ran  her  down,  although  she  was  at  anchor  fully  three 
hundred  feet  inside  the  channel  line.  Then  Marsh 
actually  had  the  effrontery  to  come  here  personally  and 
demand  damages  for  the  injury  to  his  towboat,  claim 
ing  there  were  no  lights  on  the  schooner." 

Cherry  Malotte's  eyes  grew  dark  with  indignation 
as  she  continued:  "  Nobody  thinks  of  hanging  lanterns 
to  little  crafts  like  her  at  anchor  under  such  condi 
tions.  Having  allowed  me  to  taste  his  power,  that  man 
first  threatened  me  covertly,  and  then  proceeded  to 
persecute  me  in  a  more  open  manner.  When  I  still 
remained  obdurate,  he — he" — she  paused.  "  You  may 
have  heard  of  it.  He  killed  one  of  my  men." 

"Impossible!"  ejaculated  Boyd. 

"Oh,  but  it  isn't  impossible.  Anything  is  possible 
29 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

with  unscrupulous  men  where  there  is  no  law;  they 
halt  at  nothing  when  in  chase  of  money.  They  are 
different  from  women  in  that.  I  never  heard  of  a 
woman  doing  murder  for  money." 

"Was  it  really  murder?" 

"Judge  for  yourself.  My  man  came  down  for  sup 
plies,  and  they  got  him  drunk — he  was  a  drinking  man 
— then  they  stabbed  him.  They  said  a  Chinaman  did 
it  in  a  brawl,  but  Willis  Marsh  was  to  blame.  They 
brought  the  poor  fellow  here,  and  laid  him  on  my 
steps,  as  if  I  had  been  the  cause  of  it.  Oh,  it  was 
horrible,  horrible!"  Her  eyes  suddenly  dimmed  over 
and  her  white  hands  clenched. 

"And  you  still  stuck  to  your  post?"  said  Emerson, 
curiously. 

"Certainly!  This  adventure  means  a  great  deal  to 
me,  and,  besides,  I  will  not  be  beaten1' — the  stem  of 
the  glass  with  which  she  had  been  toying  snapped 
suddenly — "at  anything." 

She  appeared,  all  in  a  breath,  to  have  become  pre 
maturely  hard  and  worldly,  after  the  fashion  of  those 
who  have  subsisted  by  their  wits.  To  Emerson  she 
seemed  to  have  grown  at  least  ten  years  older.  Yet  it 
was  unbelievable  that  this  slip  of  a  woman  should 
be  possessed  of  the  determination,  the  courage,  and 
the  administrative  ability  to  conduct  so  desperate  an 
enterprise.  He  could  understand  the  feminine  rash 
ness  that  might  have  led  her  to  embark  upon  it  in  the 
first  place,  but  to  continue  in  the  face  of  such  opposition 
— why,  that  was  a  man's  work  and  required  a  man's 
powers,  and  yet  she  was  utterly  unmasculine.  In 
deed,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  met  a  more 
womanly  woman.  Everything  about  her  was  dis 
tinctly  feminine. 

30 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

41  Fortunately,  the  fishing  season  is  short,"  she  added, 
while  a  pucker  of  perplexity  came  between  her  dainty 
brows;  "but  I  don't  know  what  will  happen  next  sum 
mer." 

"I'd  like  to  meet  this  Marsh-hen  party,"  observed 
Fraser,  his  usually  colorless  eyes  a  bright  sea-green. 

"Do  you  fear  further  —  er  —  violence?"  asked 
Emerson. 

Cherry  shrugged  her  rounded  shoulders.  "  I  an 
ticipate  it,  but  I  don't  fear  it.  I  have  Constantine  to 
protect  me,  and  you  will  admit  he  is  a  capable  body 
guard."  She  smiled  slightly,  recalling  the  scene  she 
had  interrupted  before  dinner.  "Then,  too,  Chaka- 
wana,  his  sister,  is  just  as  devoted.  Rather  a  musical 
name,  don't  you  think  so,  Chakawana?  It  means 
'The  Snowbird'  in  Aleut,  but  when  she's  aroused  she's 
more  like  a  hawk.  It's  the  Russian  in  her,  I  dare  say." 

The  girl  became  conscious  that  her  guests  were 
studying  her  with  undisguised  amazement  now,  and 
therefore  arose,  saying,  "  You  may  smoke  in  the  other 
room  if  you  wish." 

Lost  in  wonder  at  this  unconventional  creature, 
and  dazed  by  the  strangeness  of  the  whole  affair, 
Emerson  gained  his  feet  and  followed  her,  with  "Fin- 
gerless"  Fraser  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  III 

IN    WHICH    CHERRY    MALOTTE    DISPLAYS    A   TEMPER 

THE  unsuspected  luxury  of  the  dining-room,  and 
the  excellence  of  the  dinner  itself  had  in  a  measure 
prepared  Emerson  for  what  he  found  in  the  living-room. 
One  thing  only  staggered  him — a  piano.  The  bear 
skins  on  the  floor,  the  big,  sleepy  chairs,  the  reading- 
table  littered  with  magazines,  the  shelves  of  books, 
even  the  basket  of  fancy-work — all  these  he  could  ac 
cept  without  further  parleying ;  but  a  piano !  in  Kalvik ! 
Observing  his  look,  the  girl  said: 

"I  am  dreadfully  extravagant,  am  I  not?  But  I 
love  it,  and  I  have  so  little  to  do.  I  read  and  play  and 
drive  my  dog- team — that's  about  all." 

"And  rescue  drowning  men  in  time  for  dinner," 
added  Boyd  Emerson,  not  knowing  whether  he  liked 
this  young  woman  or  not.  He  knew  this  north  country 
from  bitter  experience,  knew  that  none  but  the  strong 
can  survive,  and  recognizing  himself  as  a  failure,  her 
calm  assurance  and  self-certainty  offended  him  vaguely. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  were  succeeding  where  he  had 
failed,  which  rather  jarred  his  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  Then,  too,  conventionality  is  a  very  agree 
able  social  bond,  the  true  value  of  which  is  not  often 
recognized  until  it  is  found  missing,  and  this  girl  was 
anything  but  conventional. 

Again  he  withdrew  into  that  silent  mood  from  which 
32 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

no  effort  on  the  part  of  his  hostess  could  arouse  him, 
and  it  soon  became  apparent  from  the  listless  hang  of 
his  hands  and  the  distant  light  in  his  eyes  that  he  had 
even  become  unconscious  of  her  presence  in  the  room. 
Observing  the  cause  of  her  impatience,  Fraser  inter 
rupted  his  interminable  monologue  to  say,  without 
change  of  intonation: 

"  Don't  get  sore  on  him;  he's  that  way  half  the  time. 
I  rode  herd  one  night  on  a  feller  that  was  going  to 
hang  for  murder  at  dawn,  and  he  set  just  like  that  for 
hours."  She  raised  her  brows  inquiringly,  at  which  he 
continued:  "But  you  can't  always  tell;  when  my 
brother  got  married  he  acted  the  same  way." 

After  an  hour,  during  which  Emerson  barely  spoke, 
she  tired  of  the  other  man's  anecdotes,  which  had  long 
ceased  to  be  amusing,  and,  going  to  the  piano,  shuffled 
the  sheet  music  idly,  inquiring: 

"Do  you  care  for  music?"  Her  remark  was  aimed 
at  Emerson,  but  the  other  answered: 

"  I'm  a  nut  on  it." 

She  ignored  the  speaker,  and  cast  another  question 
over  her  shoulder: 

"  What  kind  do  you  prefer?"  Again  the  adventurer 
outran  his  companion  to  the  reply: 

"  My  favorite  hymn  is  the  Maple  Leaf  Rag.  Let 
her  go,  professor." 

Cherry  settled  herself  obligingly  and  played  ragtime, 
although  she  fancied  that  Emerson  stirred  uneasily  as 
if  the  musical  interruption  disturbed  him;  but  when 
she  swung  about  on  her  seat  at  the  conclusion,  he  was 
still  lax  and  indifferent. 

"That  certainly  has  some  class  to  it,"  "Fingcrless  " 
Fraser  said,  admiringly.  "Just  go  through  the  reper- 
chure  from  soda  to  hock,  will  you?  I'm  certainly  fond 

33 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

of  that  coon  clatter."  And  realizing  that  his  pleasure 
was  genuine,  she  played  on  and  on  for  him,  to  the 
muffled  thump  of  his  feet,  now  and  then  feeding  her 
curiosity  with  a  stolen  glance  at  the  other.  She  was 
in  the  midst  of  some  syncopated  measure  when  Boyd 
spoke  abruptly:  "Please  play  something." 

She  understood  what  he  meant  and  began  really  to 
play,  realizing  very  soon  that  at  least  one  of  her  guests 
knew  and  loved  music.  Under  her  deft  fingers  the 
instrument  became  a  medium  for  musical  speech.  Gay 
roundelays,  swift,  passionate  Hungarian  dances,  bold 
Wagnerian  strains  followed  in  quick  succession,  and 
the  more  utter  her  abandon  the  more  certainly  she  felt 
the  younger  man  respond. 

Strange  to  say,  the  warped  soul  of  "  Fingerless " 
Fraser  likewise  felt  the  spell  of  real  music,  and  he  stilled 
his  loose-hinged  tongue.  By-and-by  she  began  to  sing, 
more  for  her  own  amusement  than  for  theirs,  and  after 
awhile  her  fingers  strayed  upon  the  sweet  chords  of  Bart- 
lett's  A  Dream,  a  half-forgotten  thing,  the  tenderness 
of  which  had  lived  with  her  from  girlhood.  She  heard 
Emerson  rise,  then  knew  he  was  standing  at  her  shoulder. 
Could  he  sing,  she  wondered,  as  he  began  to  take  up 
the  words  of  the  song?  Then  her  dream-filled  eyes 
widened  as  she  listened  to  his  voice  breathing  life  into 
the  beautiful  words.  He  sang  with  the  ease  and 
flexibility  of  an  artist,  his  powerful  baritone  blending 
perfectly  with  her  contralto. 

For  the  first  time  she  felt  the  man's  personality,  his 
magnetism,  as  if  he  had  dropped  his  cloak  and  stood 
at  her  side  in  his  true  semblance.  As  they  finished  the 
song  she  wheeled  abruptly,  her  face  flushed,  her  ripe 
lips  smiling,  her  eyes  moist,  and  looked  up  to  find  him 
marvelously  transformed.  His  even  teeth  gleamed 

34 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

forth  from  a  brown  face  that  had  become  the  mirror 
of  a  soul  as  spirited  as  her  own,  for  the  blending  of  their 
voices  had  brought  them  into  a  similar  harmony  of 
understanding. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  she  breathed. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I — I — that's  the  first  time 
in  ages  that  I've  had  the  heart  to  sing.  I  was  hungry 
for  music,  I  was  starving  for  it.  I've  sat  in  my  cabin 
at  night  longing  for  it  until  my  soul  fairly  ached  with 
the  silence.  I've  frozen  beneath  the  Northern  Lights 
straining  my  ears  for  the  melody  that  ought  to  go  with 
them — they  must  have  an  accompaniment  somewhere, 
don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  breathed. 

"They  must  have;  they  are  too  gloriously,  terribly 
beautiful  to  be  silent.  I've  stood  in  the  whispering 
spruce  groves  and  tried  to  sing  contentment  back  into 
my  heart,  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  This  is  the  first  real 
taste  I've  had  in  three  years.  Three  years!" 

He  was  talking  rapidly,  his  blue  eyes  dancing. 
Cherry  remembered  thinking  at  dinner  that  those  eyes 
were  of  too  light  and  hard  a  blue  for  tenderness.  She 
now  observed  that  they  were  singularly  deep  and 
passionate. 

"  Why,  I've  gone  about  with  a  comb  and  a  piece  of 
tissue-paper  at  my  lips  like  any  kid.  I  once  made  a 
banjo  out  of  a  cigar-box  and  bale  wire,  and  while  I  was 
in  the  Kougarok  I  walked  ten  miles  to  hear  a  nigger 
play  a  harmonica.  I  did  all  sorts  of  things  to  coax 
music  into  this  country,  but  it  is  silent  and  unrespon 
sive,  absolutely  dead  and  discordant."  He  made  a 
gesture  which  in  a  woman  would  have  ended  in  a 
shudder. 

He  took  a  seat  near  the  girl,  and  continued  to  talk 
35 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

feverishly,  unable  to  give  voice  to  his  thoughts  rapidly 
enough.  His  reserve  vanished,  his  silence  gave  way 
to  a  confidential  warmth  which  suffused  his  listener 
and  drew  her  to  him.  The  overpowering  force  of  his 
strong  nature  swept  her  out  of  herself,  while  her  ready 
sympathy  took  fire  and  caught  at  his  half-expressed 
ideas  and  stumbling  words,  stimulating  him  with  her 
warm  understanding.  Her  quick  wit  rallied  him  and 
awoke  echoes  of  his  past  youth,  until  they  began  to 
laugh  and  jest  with  the  camaraderie  of  boy  and  girl. 
With  their  better  acquaintance  her  assumption  of 
masculinity  fell  from  her,  and  she  became  the  "  woman 
ly  woman" — dainty,  vivacious,  captivating. 

Fraser,  whom  both  had  forgotten,  looked  on  at  first 
in  gaping,  silent  awe,  staring  and  blinking  at  his  travel 
ling  companion,  who  had  undergone  such  a  metamor 
phosis.  But  restraint  and  silence  were  impossible  to 
him  for  long,  and  in  time  he  ambled  clumsily  into  the 
conversation.  It  jarred,  of  course,  but  he  could  not  be 
ignored,  and  gradually  he  claimed  more  and  more  of 
the  talk  until  the  young  couple  yielded  to  the  mono 
logue,  smiling  at  each  other  in  mutual  understanding. 

Emerson  listened  tolerantly,  idly  running  through 
the  magazines  at  his  hand,  his  hostess  watching  him 
covertly,  albeit  her  ears  were  drummed  by  the  other's 
monotone.  How  much  better  this  mood  became  the 
young  man!  Suddenly  the  smile  of  amusement  that 
lurked  about  his  lip  corners  and  gave  him  a  pleasing 
look  hardened  in  a  queer  fashion — he  started,  then 
stared  at  one  of  the  pages  while  the  color  died  out  of 
his  brown  cheeks.  Cherry  saw  the  hand  that  held  the 
magazine  tremble.  He  looked  up  at  her,  and,  disre 
garding  Fraser,  broke  in,  harshly: 

"Have  you  read  this  magazine?" 

36 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Not  entirely.     It  came  in  the  last  mail." 

"  I'd  like  to  take  one  page  out  of  it,"  he  said.  "  May 
I?" 

"  Why,  certainly,"  she  replied.  "  You  may  have  the 
whole  thing  if  you  like."  He  produced  a  knife,  and 
with  one  quick  stroke  cut  a  single  leaf  out  of  the 
magazine,  which  he  folded  and  thrust  into  the  breast 
of  his  coat. 

"Thank  you,"  he  muttered;  then  fell  to  staring 
ahead  of  him,  again  heedless  of  his  surroundings. 
This  abrupt  relapse  into  his  former  state  of  sullen 
and  defiant  silence  tantalized  the  girl  to  the  verge  of 
anger,  especially  now  that  she  had  seen  something  of 
his  true  self.  She  was  painfully  conscious  of  a  sense 
of  betrayal  at  having  yielded  so  easily  to  his  pleasant 
mood,  only  to  be  shut  out  on  an  instant's  whim,  while 
a  girlish  curiosity  to  know  the  cause  of  the  change 
overpowered  her.  He  offered  no  explanation,  how 
ever,  and  took  no  further  part  in  the  conversation 
until,  noting  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  he  rose  and 
thanked  her  for  her  hospitality  in  the  same  deadly  in 
different  manner. 

"The  music  was  a  great  treat,"  he  said,  looking  be 
yond  her  and  holding  aloof — "a  very  great  treat.  I 
enjoyed  it  immensely.  Good-night." 

Cherry  Malotte  had  experienced  a  new  sensation, 
and  she  didn't  like  it.  She  vowed  angrily  that  she 
disliked  men  who  looked  past  her;  indeed,  she  could 
not  recall  any  other  who  had  ever  done  so.  Her  chief 
concern  had  always  been  to  check  their  ardor.  She  re 
solved  viciously  that  before  she  was  through  with  this 
young  man  he  would  make  her  a  less  listless  adieu. 
She  assured  herself  that  he  was  a  selfish,  sullen  boor, 
who  needed  to  be  taught  a  lesson  in  manners  for  his 

37 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

own  good  if  for  nothing  else ;  that  a  woman's  curiosity 
had  aught  to  do  with  her  exasperation  she  would  have 
denied.  She  abhorred  curiosity.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
she  told  herself  that  he  did  not  interest  her  in  the  least, 
except  as  a  discourteous  fellow  who  ought  to  be  shocked 
into  a  consciousness  of  his  bad  manners,  and  therefore 
the  moment  the  two  men  were  well  out  of  the  room 
she  darted  to  the  table,  snatched  up  the  magazine,  and 
skimmed  through  it  feverishly.  Ah !  here  was  the  place ! 

A  woman's  face  with  some  meaningless  name  be 
neath  filled  each  page.  Along  the  top  ran  the  heading, 
"Famous  American  Beauties."  So  it  was  a  woman! 
She  skipped  backward  and  forward  among  the  pages  for 
further  possible  enlightenment,  but  there  was  no  article 
accompanying  the  pictures.  It  was  merely  an  illus 
trated  section  devoted  to  the  photographs  of  prominent 
actresses  and  society  women,  most  of  whom  she  had 
never  heard  of,  though  here  and  there  she  saw  a  name 
that  was  familiar.  In  the  centre  was  that  tantalizingly 
clean-cut  edge  which  had  subtracted  a  face  from  the  gal 
lery — a  face  which  she  wanted  very  much  to  see.  She 
paused  and  racked  her  brain,  her  brows  furrowed  with 
the  effort  at  recollection,  but  she  had  only  glanced  at 
the  pages  when  the  magazine  came,-  and  had  paid  no 
attention  to  this  part  of  it.  Her  anger  at  her  failure 
to  recall  this  particular  face  aroused  her  to  the  fact  that 
she  was  acting  very  foolishly,  at  which  she  laughed 
aloud. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  she  demanded  of  the  empty 
room.  "  He's  in  love  with  some  society  ninny,  and 
I  don't  care  what  she  looks  like."  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders  carelessly;  then,  in  a  sudden  access  of  fury, 
she  flung  the  mutilated  magazine  viciously  into  a  far 
corner  of  the  room. 

38 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

The  travellers  slept  late  on  the  following  morning, 
for  the  weariness  of  weeks  was  upon  them,  and  the 
little  bunk -room  they  occupied  adjoined  the  main 
building  and  was  dark.  When  they  came  forth  they 
found  Chakawana  in  the  store,  and  a  few  moments  later 
were  called  to  breakfast. 

"Where  is  your  mistress?"  inquired  Boyd. 

"She  go  see  my  sick  broder,"  said  the  Indian  girl, 
recalling  Cherry's  mention  of  the  child  ill  with  measles. 
"  She  all  the  time  give  medicine  to  Aleut  babies," 
Chakawana  continued.  "  All  the  time  give,  give,  give 
something.  Indian  people  love  her." 

"She's  sort  of  a  Lady  Bountiful  to  these  bums," 
remarked  Eraser. 

"Does  she  let  them  trade  in  yonder?"  Boyd  asked, 
indicating  the  store. 

"Oh  yes!  Everything  cheap  to  Indian  people.  In 
dian  got  no  money,  all  the  same."  Then,  as  if  realiz 
ing  that  her  hasty  tongue  had  betrayed  some  secret  of 
moment,  the  Aleut  girl  paused,  and,  eying  them  sharp 
ly,  demanded,  "What  for  you  ask?" 

"  No  reason  in  particular." 

"What  for  you  ask?"  she  insisted.  "Maybe  you 
b'long  Company,  eh  ?"  Emerson  laughed,  but  she 
was  not  to  be  put  off  easily,  and,  with  characteristic 
guile,  announced  boldly:  "I  lie  to  you.  She  no  trade 
with  Aleut  people.  No;  Chakawana  lie!" 

"  She's  afraid  we'll  tell  this  fellow  Marsh,"  Fraser 
remarked  to  Emerson;  then,  as  if  that  name  had  some 
powerful  effect  upon  their  informant,  Chakawana 
advanced  to  the  table,  and,  leaning  over  it,  said : 

"You  know  Willis  Marsh?"  Her  pretty  wooden 
face  held  a  mingled  expression  of  fear,  malice,  and 
curiosity. 

*  39 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Ouch!"  said  Fraser,  shoving  back  from  his  plate. 
"  Don't  look  at  me  like  that  before  I've  had  my  coffee." 

"  Maybe  you  know  him  in  San  Flancisco,  eh  ?" 

"  No,  no!     We  never  heard  of  him  until  last  night." 

"  I  guess  you  lie!"  She  smiled  at  them  wheedlirigly, 
but  Boyd  reassured  her. 

"  No!     We  don't  know  him  at  all." 

"  Then  what  for  you  speak  his  name  ?" 

"  Miss  Malotte  told  us  about  him  at  dinner." 

"Oh!" 

"By-the-way,  what  kind  of  a  looking  feller  is  he?" 
asked  Fraser. 

"He's  fine,  han'some  man,"  said  Chakawana. 
"  Nice  fat  man.  Him  got  hair  like — like  fire." 

"  He's  fat  and  red-headed,  eh  ?  He  must  be  a 
picture." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  the  girl,  rather  vaguely. 

"Is  he  married?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Maybe  he  lie.  Maybe  he  got 
woman." 

"The  masculine  sex  seems  to  stand  like  a  band  of 
horse- thieves  with  this  dame/'  Fraser  remarked  to  his 
companion.  "  She  thinks  we're  all  liars." 

After  a  moment,  Chakawana  continued,  "  Where  you 
go  now?" 

"To  the  States;  to  the  'outside,'"  Boyd  answered. 

"Then  you  see  Willis  Marsh,  sure  thing.  He  lives 
there.  Maybe  you  speak,  eh?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Marsh  may  be  a  big  fellow  around 
Kalvik,  but  I  don't  think  he  occupies  so  much  space 
in  the  United  States  that  we  will  meet  him,"  laughed 
Emerson;  but  even  yet  the  girl  seemed  unconvinced, 
and  went  on  rather  fearfully:  "Maybe  you  see  him  all 
the  same." 

40 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Perhaps.     What  then?" 

"You  speak  my  name?" 

"Why,  no,  certainly  not." 

"  If  I  see  him,  I'll  give  him  your  love,"  offered 
"Fingerless"  Fraser,  banteringly;  but  Chakawana's 
light-hued  cheeks  blanched  perceptibly,  and  she  cried, 
quickly: 

"No!  No!  Willis  Marsh  bad,  bad  man.  You  no 
speak,  please!  Chakawana  poor  Aleut  girl.  Please?" 

Her  alarm  was  so  genuine  that  they  reassured  her; 
and  having  completed  their  meal,  they  rose  and  left 
the  room.  Outside,  Fraser  said:  "This  cannery  guy 
has  certainly  buffaloed  these  savages.  He  must  be  a 
slave-driver."  Then  as  they  filled  their  pipes,  he 
added:  "  She  was  plumb  scared  to  death  of  him,  wasn't 
she?" 

"Think  so?"  listlessly. 

"Sure.     Didn't  she  show  it?" 

"Um — m,  I  suppose  so." 

They  were  still  talking  when  they  heard  the  jingle 
of  many  bells,  then  a  sharp  command  from  Constantine, 
and  the  next  instant  the  door  burst  open  to  admit 
Cherry,  who  came  with  a  rush  of  youth  and  health  as 
fresh  as  the  bracing  air  that  followed  her.  The  cold 
had  reddened  her  cheeks  and  quickened  her  eyes; 
she  was  the  very  embodiment  of  the  day  itself,  radiant 
ly  bright  and  tinglingly  alive. 

"Good -morning,  gentlemen!"  she  cried,  removing 
the  white  fur  hood  which  gave  a  setting  to  her  sparkling 
eyes  and  teeth.  "Oh,  but  it's  a  glorious  morning!  If 
you  want  to  feel  your  blood  leap  and  your  lungs  tingle, 
just  let  Constantine  take  you  for  a  spin  behind  that 
team.  We  did  the  five  miles  from  the  village  in  seven 
teen  minutes." 

4i 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"And  how  is  your  measley  patient?"  asked  Fraser. 

"  He's  doing  well,  thank  you."  She  stepped  to  the 
door  to  admit  Chakawana,  who  had  evidently  hurried 
around  from  the  other  house,  and  now  came  in,  bare 
headed  and  heedless  of  the  cold,  bearing  a  bundle 
clasped  to  her  breast.  "  I  brought  the  little  fellow 
home  with  me.  See!" 

The  Indian  girl  bore  her  burden  to  the  stove,  where 
she  knelt  to  lift  the  covering  from  the  child's  face. 

"Hey  there!  Look  out!"  ejaculated  Fraser,  re 
treating  in  alarm.  "I  never  had  no  measles."  But 
Chakawana  went  on  cuddling  the  infant  in  a  motherly 
fashion  while  Cherry  reassured  her  guests. 

"  Is  that  an  Indian  child  ?"  asked  Emerson,  curiously, 
noting  the  little  fellow's  flushed  fair  skin.  The  kneel 
ing  girl  turned  upward  a  pair  of  tearful,  defiant  eyes, 
answering  quickly : 

"Yes,  him  Aleut  baby." 

"  Him  our  little  broder,"  came  the  deep  voice  of 
Constantine,  who  had  entered  unnoticed;  and  a  mo 
ment  later,  in  obedience  to  an  order  from  Cherry,  they 
bore  their  charge  to  their  own  quarters  at  the  rear. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IX    WHICH    SHE    GIVES    HEART    TO    A    HOPELESS    MAN 

"T  DARE  say  Kalvik  is  rather  lively  during  the  sum- 
1  mcr  season,"  Emerson  remarked  to  Cherry,  later  in 
the  day. 

"Yes;  the  ships  arrive  in  May,  and  the  fish  begin 
to  run  in  July.  After  that  nobody  sleeps." 

She  had  come  upon  him  staring  dispiritedly  at  the 
fire,  and  his  dejection  softened  her  and  drew  out  her 
womanly  sympathy.  She  had  renewed  her  efforts  to 
cheer  him  up,  seeking  to  stir  him  out  of  the  gloom  that 
imprisoned  him.  With  the  healthy  optimism  and 
exuberance  of  her  normal  youth  she  could  not  but 
deplore  the  mischance  that  had  changed  him  into  the 
sullen,  silent  brute  he  seemed. 

"  It  must  be  rather  interesting,"  he  observed,  in 
differently. 

"It  is  more  than  that;  it  is  inspiring.  Why,  the 
story  of  the  salmon  is  an  epic  in  itself.  You  know 
they  live  a  cycle  of  four  years,  no  more,  always  return 
ing  to  the  waters  of  their  nativity  to  die;  and  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  during  one  of  those  four  years  they 
disappear,  no  one  knows  where,  reappearing  out  of  the 
mysterious  depths  of  the  sea  as  if  at  a  signal.  They 
come  by  the  legion,  in  countless  scores  of  thousands; 
and  when  once  they  have  tasted  the  waters  of  their 
birth  they  never  touch  food  again,  never  cease  their 

43 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

onward  rush  until  they  become  bruised  and  battered 
wrecks,  drifting  down  from  the  spawning-beds.  When 
the  call  of  nature  is  answered  and  the  spawn  is  laid 
they  die.  They  never  seek  the  salt  sea  again,  but 
carpet  the  rivers  with  their  bones.  When  they  feel 
the  homing  impulse  they  come  from  the  remotest  depths, 
heading  unerringly  for  the  particular  parent  stream 
whence  they  originated.  If  sand-bars  should  block 
their  course  in  dry  seasons  or  obstacles  intercept  them, 
they  will  hurl  themselves  out  of  the  water  in  an  en 
deavor  to  get  across.  They  may  disregard  a  thousand 
rivers,  one  by  one ;  but  when  they  finally  taste  the  sweet 
currents  which  flow  from  their  birthplaces  their  whole 
nature  changes,  and  even  their  physical  features  alter: 
they  grow  thin ,  and  the  head  takes  on  the  sinister  curve 
of  the  preying  bird." 

"I  had  no  idea  they  acted  that  way,"  said  Boyd. 
"  You  paint  a  vivid  picture." 

"That's  because  they  interest  me.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  these  fisheries  are  more  fascinating  than  any  place 
I've  ever  seen.  Why,  you  just  ought  to  witness  the 
'  run.'  These  empty  waters  become  suddenly  crowded, 
and  the  fish  come  in  a  great  silver  horde,  which  races 
up,  up,  up  toward  death  and  obliteration.  They  come 
with  the  violence  of  a  summer  storm;  like  a  prodigious 
gleaming  army  they  swarm  and  bend  forward,  eager, 
undeviating,  one-purposed.  It's  quite  impossible  to 
describe  it — this  great  silver  horde.  They  are  entirely 
defenceless,  of  course,  and  almost  every  living  thing 
preys  upon  them.  The  birds  congregate  in  millions, 
the  four-footed  beasts  come  down  from  the  hills,  the 
Apaches  of  the  sea  harry  them  in  dense  droves,  and 
even  man  appears  from  distant  coasts  to  take  his  toll; 
but  still  they  press  bravely  on.  The  clank  of  machinery 

44 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

makes  the  hills  rumble,  the  hiss  of  steam  and  the  sighs 
of  the  soldering-furnaces  are  like  the  complaint  of  some 
giant  overgorging  himself.  The  river  swarms  with  the 
fleets  of  fish-boats,  which  skim  outward  with  the  dawn 
to  flit  homeward  again  at  twilight  and  settle  like  a  vast 
brood  of  white-winged  gulls.  Men  let  the  hours  go 
by  unheeded,  and  forget  to  sleep." 

"  What  sort  of  men  do  they  hire?" 

"Chinese,  Japs,  and  Italians,  mainly.  It's  like  a 
foreign  country  here,  only  there  are  no  women.  The 
bunk-rooms  are  filled  with  opium  fumes  and  noisy  with 
clacking  tongues.  On  one  side  of  the  village  streets  the 
Orientals  burn  incense  to  their  Joss,  across  the  way  the 
Latins  worship  the  Virgin.  They  work  side  by  side 
all  day  until  they  are  ready  to  drop,  then  mass  in  the 
street  and  knife  each  other  over  their  rival  gods." 

"  How  long  does  it  all  last?" 

"  Only  about  six  weeks;  then  the  furnace  fires  die  out, 
the  ships  are  loaded,  the  men  go  to  sleep,  and  the 
breezes  waft  them  out  into  the  August  haze,  after 
which  Kalvik  sags  back  into  its  ten  months'  coma,  be 
coming,  as  you  see  it  now,  a  dead,  deserted  village, 
shunned  by  man." 

"Jove!  you  have  a  graphic  tongue,"  said  Boyd, 
appreciatively.  "  But  I  don't  see  how  those  huge 
plants  can  pay  for  their  upkeep  with  such  a  short  run." 

"Well,  they  do;  and,  what's  more,  they  pay  tremen 
dously;  sometimes  a  hundred  per  cent,  a  year  or  more." 

"  Impossible !"  Emerson  was  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
and  Cherry  continued: 

"  Two  years  ago  a  ship  sailed  into  port  in  early  May 
loaded  with  an  army  of  men,  with  machinery,  lumber, 
coal,  and  so  forth.  They  landed,  built  the  plant,  and 
had  it  ready  to  operate  by  the  time  the  run  started. 

45 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

They  made  their  catch,  and  sailed  away  again  in  August 
with  enough  salmon  in  the  hold  to  pay  twice  over  for 
the  whole  thing.  Willis  Marsh  did  even  better  than 
that  the  year  before,  but  of  course  the  price  of  fish 
was  high  then.  Next  season  will  be  another  big  year." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Every  fourth  season  the  run  is  large;  nobody 
knows  why.  Every  time  there  is  a  Presidential  elec 
tion  the  fish  are  shy  and  very  scarce ;  that  lifts  prices. 
Every  year  in  which  a  President  of  the  United  States 
is  inaugurated  they  are  plentiful." 

Boyd  laughed.  "The  Alaska  salmon  takes  more 
interest  in  politics  than  I  do.  I  wonder  if  he  is  a  Re 
publican  or  a  Democrat  ?" 

"  Inasmuch  as  he  is  a  red  salmon,  I  dare  say  you'd 
call  him  a  Socialist,"  laughed  Cherry. 

Emerson  rose,  and  began  to  pace  back  and  forth. 
"And  you  mean  to  say  the  history  of  the  other  can 
neries  is  the  same?" 

"Certainly." 

"  I  had  no  idea  there  were  such  profits  in  the  fisheries 
up  here." 

"  Nobody  knows  it  outside  of  those  interested.  The 
Kalvik  River  is  the  most  wonderful  salmon  river  in 
the  world,  for  it  has  never  failed  once;  that's  why  the 
Companies  guard  it  so  jealously;  that's  why  they 
denied  you  shelter.  You  see,  it  is  set  away  off  here  in 
one  corner  of  Behring  Sea  without  means  of  communica 
tion  or  access,  and  they  intend  to  keep  it  so." 

It  was  evident  that  the  young  man  was  vitally  in 
terested  now.  Was  it  the  prospective  vision  of  al 
mighty  dollars  that  was  needed  to  release  the  hidden 
spring  that  had  baffled  the  girl?  With  this  clue  in 
mind,  she  watched  him  closely  and  fed  his  eagerness. 

46 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"These  figures  you  mention  are  on  record?"  he 
inquired. 

"  I  believe  they  are  available." 

'*  What  does  it  cost  to  install  and  operate  a  cannery 
for  the  first  season?" 

"About  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  I  am  told. 
But  I  believe  one  can  mortgage  his  catch  or  borrow 
money  on  it  from  the  banks,  and  so  not  have  to  carry 
the  full  burden." 

The  man  stared  at  his  companion  with  unseeing  eyes 
for  a  moment,  then  asked:  "What's  to  prevent  me 
from  going  into  the  business?" 

"Several  things.     Have  you  the  money?" 

"Possibly.     What  else?" 

"  A  site." 

"That  ought  to  be  easy." 

Cherry  laughed.  "On  the  contrary,  a  suitable 
cannery  site  is  very  harcj  to  get,  because  there  are 
natural  conditions  necessary,  fresh  flowing  water  for 
one;  and,  furthermore,  because  the  companies  have 
taken  them  all  up." 

"Ah!  I  see."  The  light  died  out  of  Emerson's  eyes, 
the  eagerness  left  his  voice.  He  flung  himself  dejected 
ly  into  a  chair  by  the  fire,  moodily  watching  the  flames 
licking  the  burning  logs.  All  at  once  he  gripped  the 
arms  of  his  chair,  and  muttered  through  set  jaws: 
"God,  I'd  like  to  take  one  more  chance!"  The  girl 
darted  a  swift  look  at  him,  but  he  fell  to  brooding  again, 
evidently  insensible  to  her  presence.  At  length  he 
stirred  himself  to  ask:  "Can  I  hire  a  guide  hereabout? 
We'll  have  to  be  going  on  in  a  day  or  so." 

"  Constantine  will  get  you  one.  I  suppose,  of  course, 
you  will  avoid  the  Katmai  Pass?" 

"Avoid  it?     Why?" 

47 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  It's  dangerous,  and  nobody  travels  it  except  in 
the  direst  emergency.  It's  much  the  shortest  route  to 
the  coast,  but  it  has  a  record  of  some  thirty  deaths. 
I  should  advise  you  to  cross  the  range  farther  east, 
where  the  divide  is  lower.  The  mail-boat  touches  at 
both  places." 

He  nodded  agreement.  "There's  no  use  taking 
chances.  I'm  in  no  hurry.  I  wish  there  was  some 
way  of  repaying  you  for  your  kindness.  We  were 
pretty  nearly  played  out  when  we  got  here." 

" Oh,  I'm  quite  selfish,"  she  disclaimed.  "If  you 
endured  a  few  months  of  this  monotony,  you'd  un 
derstand." 

During  the  rest  of  that  day  Boyd  was  conscious 
several  times  of  being  regarded  with  scrutinizing  eyes 
by  Cherry.  At  dinner,  and  afterward  in  the  living- 
room  while  Fraser  talked,  he  surprised  the  same 
questioning  look  on  her  face.  Again  she  played  for 
him,  but  he  refused  to  sing,  maintaining  an  unbroken 
taciturnity.  After  they  retired  she  sat  long  alone,  her 
brows  furrowed  as  if  wrestling  with  some  knotty  prob 
lem.  "I  wonder  if  he  would  do  it!"  she  said,  at  last. 
"  I  wonder  if  he  could  do  it!"  She  rose,  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor;  then  added,  as  if  in  desperation:  "Well, 
I  must  do  something,  for  this  can't  last.  Who  knows 
—perhaps  this  is  my  chance;  perhaps  he  has  been 
sent." 

There  are  times  when  momentous  decisions  are  in 
fluenced  by  the  most  trivial  circumstances ;  times  when 
affairs  of  the  greatest  importance  are  made  or  marred 
by  the  lift  of  an  eyebrow  or  the  tone  of  a  voice;  times 
when  life-long  associations  are  severed  and  new  ties 
contracted  purely  upon  intuition,  and  this  woman 
felt  instinctively  that  such  an  hour  had  now  struck  for 

48 


THEY      WENT     OFF     AT     A      MAD      RUN,     SWOOPING      DOWN      THE 
STEEP      BANK 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

her.  It  was  late  before  she  finally  came  to  peace  with 
the  conflict  in  her  mind  and  lay  herself  down  to  rest. 

On  the  following  morning  she  told  Constantine  to 
hitch  up  her  team  and  have  it  waiting  when  breakfast 
was  finished.  Then  she  turned  to  Emerson,  who  came 
into  the  room,  and  said,  quietly: 

"  I  have  something  to  show  you  if  you  will  take  a 
short  ride  with  me." 

The  young  man,  impressed  by  the  gravity  of  her 
manner,  readily  consented.  Half  an  hour  later  he 
wrapped  her  up  in  the  sledge-robe  and  took  station  at 
the  rear,  whip  in  hand.  Constantine  freed  the  leader, 
and  they  went  off  at  a  mad  run,  whisking  out  from  the 
buildings  and  swooping  down  the  steep  bank  to  the 
main- travelled  trail.  When  they  had  gained  the  level 
and  the  dogs  were  straightened  into  their  gait,  they 
skimmed  over  the  snow  with  the  flight  of  a  bird. 

"  That's  a  wonderful  team  you  have,"  Boyd  observed, 
as  he  glanced  over  the  double  row  of  undulating  gray 
backs  and  waving  plume-like  tails. 

"The  best  in  the  country,"  she  smiled  back  at  him. 
"They  are  good  for  a  hundred  miles  a  day." 

The  young  man  gave  himself  up  to  the  unique  and 
rather  delightful  experience  of  being  transported 
through  an  unknown  country  to  an  unknown  destina 
tion  by  a  charming  girl  of  whom  he  also  knew  nothing. 
He  watched  her  in  silence;  but  when  he  forebore  to 
question  her,  she  turned,  exposing  a  rounded,  ravishing 
cheek,  glowing  against  the  white  fur  of  her  hood. 

"Have  you  no  curiosity,  sir?" 

"None!     Nothing  but  satisfaction,"  he  observed. 

It  was  his  first  attempt  at  gallantry,  and  she  flashed 
him  a  bright,  approving  glance.  Then,  as  if  suddenly 
checked  by  second  thought,  she  frowned  slightly  and 

49 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

turned  away.  She  had  mapped  out  a  course  of  action 
during  the  night  in  which  it  was  her  purpose  to  use  this 
man  if  he  proved  amenable,  but  the  success  of  her  plan 
would  depend  largely  on  a  continuance  of  their  present 
friendly  relations.  In  order,  therefore,  to  forestall  any 
possible  change  of  base,  she  began  to  unfold  her  scheme 
in  a  business-like  tone: 

"  Yesterday  you  seemed  to  be  taken  by  the  fishing 
business." 

"  I  certainly  was  until  you  told  me  there  were  no 
cannery  sites  left." 

"There  is  one.  When  I  came  here  a  year  ago  the 
whole  river  was  open,  so  on  an  outside  chance  I  located 
a  site,  the  best  one  available.  When  Willis  Marsh 
learned  of  it,  he  took  up  all  of  the  remaining  places, 
and,  although  at  the  time  I  had  no  idea  what  I  was 
going  to  do  with  my  property,  I  have  hung  on  to  it." 

"  Is  that  where  we  are  going?" 

"  Yes.  You  seemed  eager  yesterday  to  get  in  on  a 
new  chance,  so  I  am  taking  you  out  to  look  over  the 
ground." 

"What's  the  use?     I  can't  buy  your  site." 

"  Nobody  asked  you  to,"  she  smiled.  "  I  wouldn't 
sell  it  to  you  if  you  had  the  money;  but  if  you  will 
build  a  cannery  on  it,  I'll  turn  in  the  ground  for  an 
interest." 

Emerson  meditated  a  moment,  then  replied :  "  I 
can't  say  yes  or  no.  It's  a  pretty  big  proposition — 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  you  said?" 

"  Yes.  It's  a  big  opportunity.  You  can  clean  up 
a  hundred  per  cent,  in  a  year.  Do  you  think  you  could 
raise  the  money  to  build  a  plant?" 

"I  might.  I  have  some  wealthy  friends,"  he  said, 
cautiously.  "But  I  am  not  sure." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  At  least  you  can  try  ?     That's  all  anybody  can  do." 

41  But  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  business. 
I  couldn't  make  it  succeed." 

"  I've  thought  of  all  that,  and  there's  a  way  to  make 
success  certain.  I  believe  you  have  executive  ability 
and  can  handle  men." 

"Oh  yes;  I've  done  that  sort  of  thing."  His 
broad  shoulders  went  up  as  he  drew  a  long  breath. 
"  What's  your  plan?" 

"There's  a  man  down  the  coast,  George  Bait,  who 
knows  more  about  the  business  than  any  four  people 
in  Kalvik.  He's  been  a  fisherman  all  his  life.  He  dis 
covered  the  Kalvik  River,  built  the  first  cannery  here, 
and  was  its  foreman  until  he  quarrelled  with  Marsh, 
who  proceeded  to  discipline  him.  Bait  isn't  the  kind 
of  man  to  he  disciplined ;  so,  not  having  enough  money 
to  build  a  cannery,  he  took  his  scanty  capital  and 
started  a  saltery  on  his  own  account.  That  suited 
Marsh  exactly;  he  broke  George  in  a  year,  absolutely 
ruined  him,  utterly  wiped  him  out,  just  as  he  intends 
to  wipe  out  insignificant  me!  Thinking  to  bide  his 
time  and  recoup  his  fallen  fortunes  George  came  back 
into  camp;  but  he  owns  a  valuable  trap  site  which 
Marsh  and  his  colleagues  want;  and  before  they  would 
give  him  work,  they  tried  to  make  him  assign  it  to 
them,  and  contract  never  to  go  in  business  on  his  own 
account.  Naturally  George  refused,  so  they  disciplined 
him  some  more.  He's  been  starving  now  for  two  years. 
Marsh  and  his  companions  rule  this  region  just  as  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  used  to  govern  its  conces 
sions:  by  controlling  the  natives  and  preventing  inde 
pendent  white  men  from  gaining  a  foothold. 

"No  man  dares  to  furnish  food  to  George  Bait;  no 
man  dares  to  give  him  a  bed,  no  cannery  will  let  him 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

work.  He  has  to  take  a  dory  to  Dutch  Harbor  to  get 
food.  He  doesn't  dare  leave  the  country  and  abandon 
the  meagre  thousands  he  has  invested  in  buildings,  so 
he  has  stayed  on  living  off  the  country  like  a  Siwash. 
He's  a  simple,  big-hearted  sort  of  fellow,  but  his  life  is 
centred  in  this  business;  it's  all  he  knows.  He  con 
siders  himself  the  father  of  this  section;  and  when  he 
sees  others  rounding  up  the  task  that  he  began,  it 
breaks  his  poor  heart.  Why,  every  summer  when  the 
run  starts  he  comes  across  the  marshes  and  slinks  about 
the  Kalvik  thickets  like  a  wraith,  watching  from  afar 
just  in  order  to  be  near  it  all.  He  stands  alone  and 
forsaken,  harking  to  the  clank  of  the  machinery,  every 
bolt  of  which  he  placed;  watching  his  enemies  enrich 
themselves  from  that  gleaming  silver  army,  which 
he  considers  his  very  own.  He  is  shunned  like  a  leper. 
No  man  is  allowed  to  speak  to  him  or  render  him  any 
sort  of  fellowship,  and  it  has  made  the  man  half  mad; 
it  has  turned  him  into  a  vengeful,  hate-filled  fanatic, 
living  only  for  retaliation.  Some  time  I  believe  he  will 
kill  Marsh." 

"  Hm-m !  One  seems  to  be  forever  crossing  the 
trail  of  this  Marsh,"  said  Boyd,  who  had  listened 
intently. 

"  Yes.  His  aim  is  to  gain  control  of  this  whole 
region,  and  if  you  decide  to  go  into  the  enterprise  you 
must  expect  to  find  him  the  most  unscrupulous  and 
vindictive  enemy  ever  man  had ;  make  no  mistake  about 
that.  It's  only  fair  to  warn  you  that  this  will  be  no 
child's  play;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  man  who  beats 
Marsh  will  have  done  something."  She  paused  as  if 
weighing  her  next  words,  then  said,  deliberately:  "And 
I  believe  you  are  the  one  to  do  it." 

But  Emerson  was  not  concerned  about  his  destiny 

52 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

just  then,  nor  for  the  dangerous  enmity  of  Marsh.  He 
was  following  another  train  of  thought. 

"And  so  Bait  knows  this  business  from  the  inside 
out?"  he  said. 

"Thoroughly;  every  dip,  angle,  and  spur  of  it,  so 
to  speak.  He's  practical  and  he's  honest,  in  addition 
to  which  his  trap-site  is  the  key  to  the  whole  situation. 
You  see,  the  salmon  run  in  regular  definite  courses,  year 
after  year,  just  as  if  they  were  following  a  beaten  track. 
At  certain  places  these  courses  come  close  to  the  shore 
where  conditions  make  it  possible  to  drive  piling  and 
build  traps  which  intercept  them  by  the  million.  One 
trap  will  do  the  work  of  an  army  of  fishermen  with  nets 
in  deep  water.  It  is  to  get  this  property  for  himself 
that  Marsh  has  persecuted  George  so  unflaggingly." 

"  Would  he  join  us  in  such  an  enterprise,  with  five 
chances  to  one  against  success?" 

"Would  he!"     Cherry  laughed.     "Wait  and  see." 

They  had  reached  their  destination — the  mouth  of  a 
deep  creek,  up  which  Cherry  turned  her  dogs.  Emerson 
leaped  from  the  sled,  and,  running  forward,  seized  the 
leader,  guiding  it  into  a  clump  of  spruce,  among  the 
boles  of  which  he  tangled  the  harness,  for  this  team 
was  like  a  pack  of  wolves,  ravenous  for  travel  and  in 
tolerant  of  the  leash. 

Together  they  ascended  the  bank  and  surveyed  the 
surroundings,  Cherry  expatiating  upon  every  feature 
with  the  fervor  of  a  land  agent  bent  on  weaving  his 
spell  about  a  prospective  buyer.  And  in  truth  she  had 
chosen  well,  for  the  conditions  seemed  ideal. 

"It  all  sounds  wonderfully  attractive  and  feasible," 
s.iiil  Hoyd,  at  last;  "but  we  must  weigh  the  overwhelm 
ing  odds  against  success.  First,  of  course,  is  the  ques 
tion  of  capital.  I  have  a  little  property  of  my  own 

53 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

which  I  can  convert.  But  two  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars!  That's  a  tremendous  sum  to  raise,  even  for  a  fel 
low  with  a  circle  of  wealthy  friends.  Second,  there's  the 
question  of  time.  It's  now  early  December,  and  I'd 
have  to  be  back  here  by  the  first  of  May.  Third,  could 
I  run  the  plant  and  make  it  succeed?  It  must  be  a 
wonderfully  technical  business,  and  I  am  utterly 
ignorant  of  every  phase  of  it.  Then,  too,  there  are  a 
thousand  other  difficulties,  such  as  getting  machinery 
out  here  in  time,  hiring  Chinese  labor,  chartering  a 
ship,  placing  the  output — " 

"George  Bait  has  done  all  that  many  times,  and 
knows  everything  about  it,"  Cherry  interrupted,  with 
decision.  "  Every  difficulty  can  be  met  when  the  time 
comes.  What  other  people  have  done,  you  ought  to  be 
able  to  do." 

But  he  was  not  to  be  won  by  flattery.  Youth  that 
he  was,  he  already  knew  the  vanity  of  human  hopes, 
and  it  was  his  nature  to  look  at  all  sides  of  a  question 
before  answering  it  finally. 

"  The  slightest  error  of  judgment  would  mean  failure 
and  ruin,"  he  reflected,  "for  this  country  isn't  like 
any  other.  It  is  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
and  there's  no  time  to  go  back  and  pick  up." 

"The  odds  are  great,  of  course,"  she  acquiesced, 
"  but  the  winnings  are  in  proportion.  It  isn't  casino, 
by  any  means.  This  is  worth  while.  Every  man  who 
has  done  anything  in  this  world  believes  in  a  goddess 
of  luck,  and  it's  the  element  of  chance  that  makes  life 
worth  living." 

"That's  all  right  in  theory,"  he  answered  her,  some 
what  cynically,  "  but  in  practice  you'll  find  that  luck 
is  largely  the  result  of  previous  judgment.  For  every 
obstacle  I  have  mentioned,  a  thousand  unsuspected 

54 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

difficulties  will  arise,  any  one  of  which — "  The  girl 
interrupted  him  sharply  for  a  second  time,  looking 
him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  her  own  flushed  face  alight 
with  determination. 

"  There's  only  one  person  in  the  whole  world  who  can 
defeat  you,  and  that  person  is  yourself;  and  no  man  can 
finish  a  task  before  he  begins  it.  We'll  grant  there's  a 
chance  for  failure — a  million  chances;  but  don't  try  to 
count  them.  Count  the  chances  for  success.  Don't 
be  faint-hearted,  for  there's  no  such  thing  as  fear.  It 
doesn't  exist.  It's  merely  an  absence  of  courage,  just 
as  indecision  is  merely  a  lack  of  decision.  I  never  saw 
anything  yet  of  which  I  was  afraid — and  you're  a  man. 
The  deity  of  success  is  a  woman,  and  she  insists  on  being 
won,  not  courted.  You've  got  to  seize  her  and  bear 
her  off,  instead  of  standing  under  her  window  with  a 
mandolin.  You  need  to  be  rough  and  masterful  with 
her.  Nobody  ever  reasoned  himself  out  of  a  street 
fight.  He  had  to  act.  If  a  man  thinks  over  a  proposi 
tion  long  enough  it  will  whip  him,  no  matter  how 
simple  it  is.  It's  the  lightning  flash  that  guides  a  man. 
You  must  lay  your  course  in  the  blue  dazzle,  then  follow 
it  in  the  dark ;  and  when  you  come  to  the  end,  it  always 
lightens  again.  Don't  stand  still,  staring  through  the 
gloom,  and  then  try  to  walk  while  the  lightning  lasts, 
because  you  won't  get  anywhere." 

Her  words  were  charged  with  an  electric  force  that 
communicated  itself  to  the  young  man  and  galvanized 
him  into  action.  He  would  have  spoken,  but  she  stayed 
him,  and  went  on: 

"  Wait;  I'm  not  through  yet.     I've  watched  you,  and 

I  know  you  are  down  on  your  luck  for  some  reason. 

You've  been   miscast  somehow  and   you've   had   the 

heart  taken  out  of  you;  but  I'm  sure  it's  in  you  to 

s  55 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

succeed,  for  you're  young  and  intelligent,  cool  and  de 
termined.  I  am  giving  you  this  chance  to  play  the 
biggest  game  of  your  life,  and  erase  in  eight  short 
months  every  trace  of  failure.  I'm  not  doing  it  alto 
gether  unselfishly,  for  I  believe  you've  been  sent  to 
Kalvik  to  work  out  your  own  salvation  and  mine,  and 
that  of  poor  George  Bait,  whom  you've  never  seen. 
You're  going  to  do  this  thing,  and  you're  going  to 
make  it  win." 

Emerson  reached  out  impulsively  and  caught  her 
tiny,  mittened  hand.  His  eyes  were  shining,  his  face 
had  lost  the  settled  look  of  dejection,  and  was  all  aglow 
with  a  new  dawn  of  hope.  Even  his  shoulders  were 
lifted  and  thrown  back  as  if  from  some  sudden  access 
of  vigor  that  lightened  his  burden. 

"You're  right!"  he  said,  firmly.  "We'll  send  for 
Bait  to-night." 


CHAPTER  V 

IN    WHICH    A    COMPACT    IS    FORMED 

NOW  that  he  had  committed  himself  to  action, 
Boyd  Emerson  became  a  different  being.  He  was 
no  longer  the  dispirited  cynic  of  yesterday,  but  an 
eager,  voluble  optimist  athirst  for  knowledge  and  afire 
with  impatience.  On  the  homeward  drive  he  had 
bombarded  Cherry  with  a  running  fusillade  of  questions, 
so  that  by  the  time  they  had  arrived  at  her  house  she 
was  mentally  and  physically  fatigued.  He  seemed 
insatiable,  drawing  from  her  every  atom  of  information 
she  possessed,  and  although  he  was  still  hard,  incisive, 
and  aloof,  it  was  in  quite  a  different  way.  The  in 
tensity  of  his  concentration  had  gathered  all  feeling 
into  one  definite  passion,  and  had  sucked  him  dry  of 
ordinary  emotions. 

In  the  days  that  followed  she  was  at  his  elbow  con 
stantly,  aiding  him  at  every  turn  in  his  zeal  to  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  the  cannery  system.  The  odd  con 
viction  grew  upon  her  that  he  was  working  against 
time,  that  there  was  a  limit  to  his  period  of  action,  for 
he  seemed  obsessed  by  an  ever-growing  passion  to 
accomplish  some  end  within  a  given  time,  and  had  no 
thought  for  anything  beyond  the  engrossing  issue  into 
which  he  had  plunged.  She  was  dumfounded  by  his 
sudden  transformation,  and  delighted  at  first,  but 
later,  when  she  saw  that  he  regarded  her  only  as  a 

57 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

means  to  an  end,  his  cool  assumption  of  leadership 
piqued  her  and  she  felt  hurt. 

Constantine  had  been  sent  for  Bait,  with  instructions 
to  keep  on  until  he  found  the  fisherman,  even  if  the 
quest  carried  him  over  the  range.  During  the  days  of 
impatient  waiting  they  occupied  their  time  largely  in 
reconnoitring  the  nearest  cannery,  permission  to  go 
over  which  Cherry  had  secured  from  the  watchman, 
who  was  indebted  to  her.  The  man  was  timid  at  first, 
but  Emerson  won  him  over,  then  proceeded  to  pump 
him  dry  of  information,  as  he  had  done  with  his  hostess. 
He  covered  the  plant  like  a  ferret;  he  showed  such 
powers  of  adaptability  and  assimilation  as  to  excite 
the  girl's  wonder;  his  grasp  of  detail  was  instant;  his 
retentive  faculty  tenacious;  he  never  seemed  to  rest. 

"Why,  you  already  know  more  about  a  cannery 
than  a  superintendent  does,"  she  remarked,  after 
nearly  a  week  of  this.  "  I  believe  you  could  build  one 
yourself." 

He  smiled.  "  I'm  an  engineer  by  education,  and 
this  is  really  in  my  line.  It's  the  other  part  that  has 
me  guessing." 

"Bait  can  handle  that." 

"But  why  doesn't  he  come?"  he  questioned,  crossly. 
A  score  of  times  he  had  voiced  his  impatience,  and 
Cherry  was  hard  pushed  to  soothe  him. 

Nor  was  she  the  only  one  to  note  the  change  in  him ; 
Fraser  followed  him  about  and  looked  on  in  bewilder 
ment. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  '  Frozen  Annie'  ?"  he  asked 
Cherry  on  one  occasion.  "You  must  have  fed  him  a 
speed-ball,  for  I  never  saw  a  guy  gear  up  so  fast.  Why, 
he  was  the  darndest  crape-hanger  I  ever  met  till  you 
got  him  gingered  up;  he  didn't  have  no  more  spirit 

58 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

than  a  sick  kitten.  Of  course,  he  ain't  what  you'd  call 
genial  and  expansive  yet,  but  he's  developed  a  remark 
able  burst  of  speed,  and  seems  downright  hopeful  at 
times." 

"Hopeful  of  what?" 

"Ah!  that's  where  I  wander;  he's  a  puzzle  to  me. 
Hopeful  of  making  money,  I  suppose." 

"That  isn't  it.  I  can  see  he  doesn't  care  for  the 
money  itself,"  the  girl  declared,  emphatically.  She 
would  have  liked  to  ask  Eraser  if  he  knew  anything 
about  the  mysterious  beauty  of  the  magazine,  but 
refrained. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  either,"  said  the  man.  "  He  acts 
more  like  somebody  was  going  to  ring  the  gong  on  him 
if  this  fish  thing  don't  let  him  out.  It  seems  to  be  a 
case  bet  with  him." 

"  It's  a  case  bet  with  me,  too,"  said  the  girl.  "  My 
men  are  ready  to  quit,  and — well,  Willis  Marsh  will 
see  that  I  am  financially  ruined!" 

"  Oho!  So  this  is  your  only  ' out,' "  grinned  "  Finger- 
less"  Fraser.  "  Now,  I  had  a  different  idea  as  to  why 
you  got  Emerson  started."  He  was  observing  her 
shrewdly. 

"What  idea,  pray?" 

"Well,  talking  straight  and  side-stepping  subterfuge, 
this  is  a  lonely  place  for  a  woman  like  you,  and  our 
mutual  friend  ain't  altogether  unattractive." 

Cherry's  cheeks  flamed,  but  her  tone  was  icy.  "  This 
is  entirely  a  business  matter." 

"Hm — m — !  I  ain't  never  heard  you  touted  none 
as  a  business  woman,"  said  the  adventurer. 

"Have  you  ever  heard  me" — the  color  faded  from 
the  girl's  face,  and  it  was  a  trifle  drawn — "  discussed 
in  any  way?" 

59 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"You  know,  Emerson  makes  me  uncomfortable 
sometimes,  he  is  so  damn  moral,"  Fraser  replied,  in 
directly.  "  He  won't  stand  for  anything  off  color. 
He's  a  real  square  guy,  he  is,  the  kind  you  read  about." 

"You  didn't  answer  my  question,"  insisted  Cherry. 

Again  Fraser  evaded  the  issue.  "  Now,  if  this  Marsh 
is  going  after  you  in  earnest  this  summer,  why  don't 
you  let  me  stick  around  here  till  spring  and  look-out 
your  game?  I'll  drop  a  monkey-wrench  in  his  gear- 
case  or  put  a  spider  in  his  dumpling ;  and  it's  more  than 
an  even  shot  that  if  him  and  I  got  to  know  each  other 
right  well,  I'd  own  his  cannery  before  fall." 

"Thank  you,  I  can  take  care  of  myself!"  said  the 
girl,  in  a  tone  that  closed  the  conversation. 

Late  one  stormy  night — Constantine  had  been  gone 
a  week — the  two  men  whom  they  were  expecting  blew 
in  through  the  blinding  smother,  half  frozen  and  well- 
nigh  exhausted,  with  the  marks  of  hard  travel  showing 
in  their  sunken  cheeks  and  in  the  bleeding  pads  of 
their  dog-team.  But  although  a  hundred  miles  of 
impassable  trails  lay  behind  them,  Bait  refused  rest 
or  nourishment  until  he  had  learned  why  Cherry  had 
sent  for  him. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  demanded  of  her,  staring  with 
suspicious  eyes  at  the  strangers. 

As  briefly  as  possible  she  outlined  the  situation  the 
while  Boyd  Emerson  took  his  measure,  for  no  person 
quite  like  this  fisherman  had  ever  crossed  the  miner's 
path.  He  saw  a  huge,  barrel-chested  creature  whose 
tremendous  muscles  bulged  beneath  his  nondescript 
garments,  whose  red,  upstanding  bristle  of  hair  topped 
a  leather  countenance  from  which  gleamed  a  pair  of 
the  most  violent  eyes  Emerson  had  ever  beheld,  the 
dominant  expression  of  which  was  rage.  His  jaw  was 

60 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

long,  and  the  seams  from  nostril  and  lip,  half  hidden 
behind  a  stiff  stubble,  gave  it  the  set  of  granite.  His 
hands  were  gnarled  and  cracked  from  an  age  -  long 
immersion  in  brine,  his  voice  was  hoarse  with  the  echo 
of  drumming  ratlines.  He  might  have  lived  forty, 
sixty  years,  but  every  year  had  been  given  to  the  sea, 
for  its  breath  was  in  his  lungs,  its  foaming  violence  was 
in  his  blood. 

As  the  significance  of  Cherry's  words  sank  into  his 
mind,  the  signs  of  an  unholy  joy  overspread  the  fish 
erman's  visage;  his  thick  lips  writhed  into  an  evil 
grin,  and  his  hairy  paws  continued  to  open  and  close 
hungrily. 

"Do  you  mean  business?"  he  bellowed  at  Emerson. 

"I  do." 

"Can  you  fight?" 

"Yes." 

"  Will  you  do  what  I  tell  you,  or  have  you  got  a  lot 
of  sick  notions?" 

"  No,"  the  young  man  declared,  stoutly,  "  I  have  no 
scruples;  but  I  won't  do  what  you  or  anybody  else  tells 
me.  I'll  do  what  I  please.  I  intend  to  run  this  enter 
prise  absolutely,  and  run  it  my  way." 

"This  gang  won't  stop  at  anything,"  warned  Bait. 

"Neither  will  I,"  affirmed  the  other,  with  a  scowl 
and  a  dangerous  down  -  drawing  of  his  lip  corners. 
"  I've  got  to  win,  so  don't  waste  time  wondering  how 
far  I'll  go.  What  I  want  to  know  is  if  you  will  join  my 
enterprise." 

The  giant  uttered  a  mirthless  chuckle.  "  I'll  give 
my  life  to  it." 

"I  knew  you  would,"  flashed  Cherry,  her  eyes 
beaming. 

"  And  if  we  don't  beat  Willis  Marsh,  by  God,  I'll  kill 
61 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

him!"  Bait  shouted,  fully  capable  of  carrying  out  his 
threat,  for  his  bloodshot  eyes  were  lit  with  bitter  hatred 
and  the  memory  of  his  wrongs  was  like  gall  in  his 
mouth.  Turning  to  the  girl,  he  said : 

"Now  give  me  something  to  eat.  I've  been  living 
on  dog  fish  till  my  belly  is  full  of  bones." 

He  ripped  the  ragged  parka  from  his  back  and  flung 
it  in  a  sodden  heap  beside  the  stove ;  then  strode  after 
her,  with  the  others  following. 

She  seated  him  at  her  table  and  spread  food  before 
him — great  quantities  of  food,  which  he  devoured  raven 
ously,  humped  over  in  his  seat  like  a  bear,  his  jaw 
hanging  close  to  his  plate.  His  appetite  was  as  un- 
governed  as  his  temper;  he  did  not  taste  his  meal  nor 
note  its  character,  but  demolished  whatever  fell  first 
to  his  hand,  staring  curiously  up  from  under  his 
thatched  brows  at  Emerson,  now  and  then  grunting 
some  interruption  to  the  other's  rapid  talk.  Of 
Cherry  and  of  "  Fingerless"  Fraser,  who  regarded  him 
with  awe,  he  took  not  the  slightest  heed.  He  gorged 
himself  with  sufficient  provender  for  four  people;  then 
observing  that  the  board  was  empty,  swept  the  crumbs 
and  remnants  from  his  lips,  and  rose,  saying : 

"  Now,  let's  go  out  by  the  stove.  I've  been  cold  for 
three  days." 

Cherry  left  the  two  of  them  there,  and  long  after 
she  had  gone  to  bed  she  heard  the  murmur  of  their 
voices. 

"It's  all  arranged,"  they  advised  her  at  the  break 
fast-table.  "We  leave  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow?"  she  echoed,  blankly. 

"To-morrow?"  likewise  questioned  Fraser,  in  alarm. 
"Oh,  say!  You  can't  do  that.  My  feet  are  too  sore 
to  travel.  I've  certainly  got  a  bad  pair  of  'dogs.'" 

62 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  We  start  in  the  morning.  We  have  no  time  to 
waste." 

Cherry  turned  to  the  fisherman.  "  You  can't  get 
ready  so  soon,  George." 

"  I'm  ready  now,"  answered  the  big  fellow. 

She  felt  a  sudden  dread  at  her  heart.  What  if  they 
failed  and  did  not  return  ?  What  if  some  untoward 
peril  should  overtake  them  on  the  outward  trip?  It 
was  a  hazardous  journey,  and  George  Bait  was  the  most 
reckless  man  on  the  Behring  coast.  She  cast  a  fright 
ened  glance  at  Emerson,  but  none  of  the  men  noticed 
it.  Even  if  they  had  observed  the  light  that  had  come 
into  those  clear  eyes,  they  would  not  have  known  it  for 
the  dawn  of  a  new  love  any  more  than  she  herself 
realized  what  her  reasonless  fears  betokened.  She 
had  little  time  to  ponder,  however,  for  Emerson's  next 
words  added  to  her  alarm: 

"We'll  catch  the  mail-boat  at  Katmai." 

"Katmai!"  she  broke  in,  sharply.  "You  said  you 
were  going  by  the  Iliamna  route." 

"The  other  is  shorter." 

She  turned  on  Bait,  angrily.  "  You  know  better 
than  to  suggest  such  a  thing." 

"  I  didn't  suggest  it,"  said  Bait.  "  It's  Mr.  Emer 
son's  own  idea;  he  insists." 

"I'm  for  the  long,  safe  proposition  every  time," 
Fraser  announced,  as  if  settling  the  matter  definitely, 
languidly  filling  his  pipe. 

Boyd's  voice  broke  in  curtly  upon  his  revery.  "  You're 
not  going  with  us." 

"The  hell  I  ain't!"  exploded  the  other.  "Why 
not?" 

"There  won't  be  room.  You  understand — it's  hard 
travelling  with  three." 

63 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Oh,  see  here,  now,  pal!  You  promised  to  take  me 
to  the  States,"  the  adventurer  demurred.  "You 
wouldn't  slough  me  at  this  gravel -pit,  after  you 
promised?"  He  was  visibly  alarmed. 

"Very  well,"  said  Emerson,  resignedly.  "If  you 
feel  that  way  about  it,  come  along;  but  I  won't  take 
you  east  of  Seattle." 

"  Seattle  ain't  so  bad,"  Eraser  replied.  "  I  guess  I 
can  pick  up  a  pinch  of  change  there,  all  right.  But 
Kalvik—  Wow!" 

"Why  do  you  have  to  go  so  soon?"  Cherry  asked 
Emerson,  when  the  two  others  had  left  them. 

"  Because  every  day  counts." 

"  But  why  the  Katmai  route  ?  It's  the  stormy  sea 
son,  and  you  may  have  to  wait  two  weeks  for  the  mail- 
boat  after  you  reach  the  coast." 

"  Yes;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  should  miss  it  by 
one  day,  it  would  mean  a  month's  delay.  She  ought 
to  be  due  in  about  ten  days,  so  we  can't  take  any 
chances." 

"  I  shall  be  dreadfully  worried  until  I  know  you  are 
safely  over,"  said  the  girl,  a  new  note  of  wistful  tender 
ness  in  her  voice. 

"Nonsense!     We've  all  taken  bigger  risks  before." 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  began,  hesitatingly,  "  I've  been 
thinking  that  perhaps  you'd  better  not  take  up  this 
enterprise,  after  all." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked,  with  an  incredulous  stare. 
"  I  thought  you  were  enthusiastic  on  the  subject." 

"I  am — I — believe  in  the  proposition  thoroughly," 
Cherry  limped  on,  "but — well,  I  was  entirely  selfish 
in  getting  you  started,  for  it  possibly  means  my  own 
salvation,  but — 

"  It's  my  last  chance  also,"  Boyd  broke  in.  "  That's 
64 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

only  another  reason  for  you  to  continue,  however. 
Why  have  you  suddenly  weakened?" 

"  Because  I  see  you  don't  realize  what  you  are  going 
into,"  she  said,  desperately.  "  Because  you  don't  ap 
preciate  the  character  of  the  men  you  will  clash  with. 
There  is  actual  physical  peril  attached  to  this  under 
taking,  and  Marsh  won't  hesitate  to — to  do  anything 
under  the  sun  to  balk  you.  It  isn't  worth  while  risking 
your  life  for  a  few  dollars." 

"Oh,  isn't  it!"  Emerson  laughed  a  trifle  harshly. 
"  My  dear  girl,  you  don't  know  what  I  am  willing  to 
risk  for  those  'few  dollars';  you  don't  know  what 
success  means  to  me.  Why,  if  I  don't  make  this  thing 
win,  I'll  be  perfectly  willing  to  let  Marsh  wreak  his 
vengeance  upon  me — I  might  even  help  him." 

"Oh  no!" 

"You  may  rest  assured  of  one  thing:  if  he  is  un 
scrupulous,  so  shall  I  be.  If  he  undertakes  to  check 
me,  I'll— well,  I'll  fight  fire  with  fire." 

His  face  was  not  pleasant  to  look  at  now,  and  the 
girl  felt  an  access  of  that  vague  alarm  which  had  been 
troubling  her  of  late.  She  saw  again  that  old  light  of 
sullen  desperation  in  the  man's  eye,  and  marked  with 
it  a  new,  dogged,  dangerous  gleam  as  of  one  possessed, 
which  proclaimed  his  extreme  necessity. 

"  But  what  has  occurred  to  make  you  change  your 
mind?"  he  asked,  causing  the  faintest  flush  to  rise  in 
her  cheeks. 

"  A  few  days  ago  you  were  a  stranger,  now  you  are 
a  friend,"  she  replied,  steadily.  "One's  likes  and  dis 
likes  grow  rapidly  when  they  are  not  choked  by  con 
vention.  I  like  you  too  well  to  see  you  do  this.  You 
are  too  good  a  man  to  become  the  prey  of  those  peo 
ple.  Remember  George  Bait." 

65 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Bait  hasn't  started  yet.  For  the  first  time  he  is  a 
real  menace  to  Willis  Marsh." 

"  Won't  you  take  my  advice  and  reconsider?"  urged 
the  girl. 

"Listen!"  said  the  young  man.  "I  came  to  this 
country  with  a  definite  purpose  in  mind,  and  I  had 
three  years  in  which  to  work  it  out.  I  needed  money — 
God,  how  I  needed  money!  They  may  talk  about  the 
emptiness  of  riches,  and  tell  you  that  men  labor  not 
for  the  '  kill '  but  for  the  pursuit,  not  for  the  score  but 
for  the  contest.  Maybe  some  of  them  do ;  but  with  me 
it  was  gold  I  needed,  gold  I  had  to  have,  and  I  didn't 
care  much  how  I  got  it,  so  long  as  I  got  it  honestly. 
I  didn't  crave  the  pleasure  of  earning  it  nor  the  thrill 
of  finding  it;  I  just  wanted  the  thing  itself,  and  came 
up  here  because  I  thought  the  opportunities  were 
greater  here  than  elsewhere.  I'd  have  gone  to  the 
Sahara  or  into  Thibet  just  as  willingly.  I  left  behind 
a  good  many  things  to  which  I  had  been  raised,  and 
forsook  opportunities  which  to  most  fellows  of  my  age 
would  seem  golden ;  but  I  did  it  eagerly,  because  I  had 
only  three  years  of  grace  and  knew  I  must  win  in  that 
time.  Well,  I  went  at  it.  No  chance  was  too  des 
perate,  no  peril  was  too  great,  no  hardship  too  intense 
for  me.  I  bent  every  effort  to  my  task,  until  mind 
and  body  became  sleepless,  unresting  implements  for 
the  working  out  of  my  purpose.  I  lost  all  sensibility  to 
effort,  to  fatigue,  to  physical  suffering;  I  forgot  all 
things  in  the  world  except  my  one  idea.  I  focussed 
every  power  upon  my  desire,  but  a  curse  was  on  me. 
A  curse!  Nothing  less. 

"At  first  I  took  misfortune  philosophically;  but 
when  it  came  and  slept  with  me,  I  began  to  rage  at  it. 
Month  after  month,  year  by  year,  it  rose  with  me  at 

66 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

dawn  and  lay  down  by  me  at  night.  Misfortune  be 
leaguered  me  and  dogged  my  heels,  until  it  became  a 
thing  of  amusement  to  every  one  except  myself.  To 
me  it  was  terrifying,  because  my  time  was  shorten 
ing,  and  the  last  day  of  grace  was  rushing  toward 
me. 

"  Just  to  show  you  what  luck  I  played  in : — at  Daw- 
son  I  found  a  prospect  that  would  have  made  most 
men  rich,  and  although  such  a  thing  had  never  hap 
pened  in  that  particular  locality  before,  it  pinched 
out.  I  tried  again  and  again  and  again,  and  finally 
found  another  mine,  only  to  be  robbed  of  it  by  the 
Canadian  laws  in  such  a  manner  that  there  wasn't 
the  faintest  hope  of  my  recovering  the  property.  Men 
told  me  about  opportunities  they  couldn't  avail  them 
selves  of,  and,  although  I  did  what  they  themselves 
would  have  done,  these  chances  proved  to  be  ghastly 
jokes.  I  finally  shifted  from  mining  to  other  ventures, 
and  the  town  burned.  I  awoke  in  a  midnight  bliz 
zard  to  see  my  chance  for  a  fortune  licked  up  by  flames, 
while  the  hiss  of  the  water  from  the  firemen's  hose 
seemed  directed  at  me  and  the  voice  of  the  crowd 
sounded  like  jeers. 

"  I  was  among  the  first  at  Nome  and  staked  along 
side  the  discoverers,  who  undertook  to  put  me  in  right 
for  once;  but  although  the  fellows  around  me  made 
fortunes  in  a  day,  my  ground  was  barren  and  my  bed 
rock  swept  clean  by  that  unseen  hand  which  I  always 
felt  but  could  never  avoid.  I  leased  proven  properties, 
only  to  find  that  the  pay  ceased  without  reason.  I  did 
this  so  frequently  that  owners  began  to  refuse  me  and 
came  to  consider  me  a  thing  of  evil  omen.  Once  a 
broken  snow-shoe  in  a  race  to  the  recorder's  office  lost 
me  a  fortune;  at  another  time  a  corrupt  judge  plunged 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

me  from  certainty  to  despair,  and  all  the  while  my  time 
was  growing  shorter  and  I  was  growing  poorer. 

"  Two  hours  after  the  Topkuk  strike  was  made  I 
drove  past  the  shaft,  but  the  one  partner  known  to  me 
had  gone  to  the  cabin  to  build  a  fire,  and  the  other  one 
lied  to  me,  thinking  I  was  a  stranger.  I  heard  after 
ward  that  just  as  I  drove  away  my  friend  came  to 
the  door  and  called  after  me,  but  the  day  was  bitter, 
and  my  ears  were  muffled  with  fur,  while  the  dry  snow 
beneath  the  runners  shrieked  so  that  it  drowned  his 
cries.  He  chased  me  for  half  a  mile  to  make  me  rich, 
but  the  hand  of  fate  lashed  my  dogs  faster  and  faster, 
while  that  hellish  screeching  outdinned  his  voice. 
Six  hours  later  Topkuk  was  history.  You've  seen 
stampedes — you  understand. 

"  My  name  became  a  by- word  and  caused  people  to 
laugh,  though  they  shrank  from  me,  for  miners  and 
sailors  are  equally  superstitious.  No  man  ever  had 
more  opportunities  than  I,  and  no  man  was  ever  so 
miserably  unfortunate  in  missing  them.  In  time  I 
became  whipped,  utterly  without  hope.  Yet  almost 
from  habit  I  fought  on  and  on,  with  my  ears  deaf  to 
the  voices  that  mocked  me. 

"  Three  years  isn't  very  long  as  you  measure  time, 
but  the  death-watch  drags,  and  the  priest's  prayers  are 
an  eternity  when  the  hangman  waits  outside.  But  the 
time  came  and  passed  at  length,  and  I  saw  my  beautiful 
breathing  dream  become  a  rotting  corpse.  Still,  I 
struggled  along,  until  one  day  something  snapped  and 
I  gave  up — for  all  time.  I  realized,  as  you  said,  that 
I  was  *  miscast,'  that  I  had  never  been  of  this  land,  so  I 
was  headed  for  home.  Home!"  Emerson  smiled 
bitterly.  "The  word  doesn't  mean  anything  to  me 
now,  but  anyhow  I  was  headed  for  God's  country,  an 

68 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

utter  failure,  in  a  worse  plight  than  when  I  came  here, 
when  you  put  this  last  chance  in  front  of  me.  It  may 
be  another  ignis  )atuus,  such  as  the  others  I  have  pur 
sued,  for  I  have  been  chasing  rainbows  now  for  three 
years,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  go  on  chasing  them ;  but  as 
long  as  there  is  a  chance  left,  I  can't  quit — I  can't. 
And  something  tells  me  that  I  have  left  that  ill-omened 
thing  behind  at  last,  and  I  am  going  to  win!" 

Cherry  had  listened  eagerly  to  this  bitter  tirade,  and 
was  deeply  touched  by  the  pathos  of  the  youth's  sense 
of  failure.  His  poignant  pessimism,  however,  only 
seemed  to  throw  into  relief  the  stubborn  fixedness  of  his 
dominant  purpose.  The  moving  cause  of  it  all,  what 
ever  it  was — and  it  could  only  be  a  woman — aroused  a 
burning  curiosity  in  her,  and  she  said: 

"But  you're  too  late.  You  say  your  time  was  up 
some  time  ago." 

"Perhaps,"  he  returned,  staring  into  the  distances. 
"  That's  what  I  was  going  out  to  ascertain.  I  thought 
I  might  have  a  few  days  of  grace  allowed  me."  He 
turned  his  eyes  directly  upon  her,  and  concluded,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone :  "  That's  why  I  can't  quit,  now  that 
you've  set  me  in  motion  again,  now  that  you've  given 
me  another  chance.  That's  why  we  leave  to-morrow 
and  go  by  way  of  the  Katmai  Pass." 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEREIN    BOREAS    TAKES    A    HAND 

A,L  that  day  the  men  busied  themselves  in  prep 
aration  for  the  start.  Bait  was  ferociously  ex 
ultant,  Emerson  was  boiling  with  impatience,  while 
Fraser,  whose  calm  nothing  disturbed,  slept  most  of 
the  time,  observing  that  this  was  his  last  good  bed  for 
a  while,  and  therefore  he  wished  to  make  it  work. 

Beneath  her  quiet  cheerfulness,  Cherry  nursed  a 
forlorn  heart ;  for  when  these  men  were  gone  she  would 
be  left  alone  and  friendless  again,  buried  in  the  heart 
of  an  inaccessible  wilderness,  given  over  to  her  fears  and 
the  intrigues  of  her  enemies.  She  had  eyes  mainly  for 
Emerson,  and  although  in  her  glance  there  was  good- 
fellowship,  in  her  heart  was  hot  resentment — first  at 
him  because  he  had  awakened  in  her  the  warm  interest 
she  felt  for  him,  and,  second,  at  herself  for  harboring 
any  such  interest.  Why  should  this  self-centred  youth, 
wrapped  up  in  his  own  affairs  to  her  own  utter  exclusion, 
give  her  cause  to  worry  ?  Why  should  she  allow  him  to 
step  into  her  quiet  life  and  upset  her  well  -  ordered 
existence  ? 

"How  do  you  like  him?"  she  asked  Bait,  once. 

"  He's  my  style,  all  right,"  said  the  big  man.  "  He's 
desp'rate,  and  he'll  fight;  that's  what  I  want — some 
body  that  won't  blench  at  anything  when  the  time 
comes."  He  ground  his  teeth,  and  his  red  eyes  flamed, 

70 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

reflecting  the  sense  of  injury  that  seared  his  brain. 
"  What  he  don't  know  about  the  business,  I  do,  and 
we'll  make  it  win.  But,  say,  ain't  he  awful  at  asking 
questions?  My  head  aches  and  my  back  is  lame  from 
answering  him.  Seems  like  he  remembers  it  all,  too." 

Goaded  by  the  wrong  he  had  suffered,  and  almost 
maniacal  in  his  eagerness  for  the  coming  struggle,  the 
giant's  frenzy  told  Cherry  that  the  fight  would  be  an 
unrelenting  one,  and  again  a  vague  tremor  of  regret  at 
having  drawn  this  youth  into  the  affair  crept  over  her 
and  sharpened  the  growing  pain  at  her  heart. 

During  the  evening  Emerson  left  the  two  other  men 
in  the  store,  and,  seeking  her  out  in  the  little  par 
lor,  asked  her  to  play  for  him.  She  consented  gladly, 
and,  as  on  their  first  evening  together,  he  sang  with 
her.  Again  the  blending  of  their  voices  brought  them 
closer,  his  aloofness  wore  off,  and  he  became  an 
agreeable,  accomplished  companion  whose  merry  wit 
and  boyish  sympathy  stirred  emotions  in  the  girl  that 
threatened  her  peace  of  mind.  This  had  been  the 
only  companionship  with  her  own  kind  she  had  enjoyed 
for  months,  and  with  his  melting  mood  came  a  softening 
of  her  own  nature,  in  which  she  appeared  before  him 
gracious  and  irresistible.  Banteringly,  and  rising  out 
of  his  elation,  he  tried  to  please  her,  and,  in  the  same 
spirit  that  calls  the  bird  to  its  mate,  she  responded.  It 
was  their  last  hour  together  before  embarking  on  his 
perilous  journey  in  search  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  his 
starved  affections  clamored  for  sympathy,  while  the 
iron  in  his  blood  felt  the  magnetic  propinquity  of  sex. 
When  he  said  good-night  it  was  with  a  wholly  new  con 
ception  of  his  hostess,  and  of  her  power  to  charm  as 
well  as  manage  men  and  affairs;  but  he  could  well  have 
dispensed  with  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  came  over 

6  71 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

him  as  he  reviewed  the  events  of  the  evening  over  a 
last  pipe,  that  he  had  been  playing  with  fire.  For  her 
part,  she  lay  awake  far  into  the  morning  hours,  now 
blissfully  floating  on  the  current  of  half-formed  desires, 
now  vaguely  fearing  some  dread  that  clutched  her. 

The  good-byes  were  brief  and  commonplace;  there 
was  time  for  nothing  more,  for  the  dogs  were  strain 
ing  to  be  off  and  the  December  air  bit  fiercely.  But 
Cherry  called  Emerson  aside,  and  in  a  rather  tremulous 
voice  begged  him  again  to  consider  well  this  enterprise 
before  finally  committing  himself  to  it.  "  If  this  were 
any  other  country,  if  there  were  any  law  up  here  or 
any  certainty  of  getting  a  square  deal,  I'd  never  say  a 
word,  I'd  urge  you  to  go  the  limit.  But — " 

He  was  about  to  laugh  off  her  fears  as  he  had  done 
before,  when  the  plaintive  wrinkle  between  her  brows 
and  the  forlorn  droop  of  her  lips  stayed  him.  Without 
thought  of  consequences,  and  prompted  largely  by  his 
leaping  spirits,  he  stooped  and,  before  she  could  divine 
his  purpose,  kissed  her. 

"  Good-bye !"  he  laughed,  with  dancing  eyes.  "  That's 
my  answer!"  and  the  next  second  was  at  the  sled.  The 
dogs  leaped  at  his  shout,  and  the  cavalcade  was  in  motion. 

The  others  had  not  observed  his  leave-taking,  and 
now  cried  a  final  farewell;  but  the  girl  stood  without 
sound  or  gesture,  bareheaded  under  the  wintry  sky, 
a  startled,  wondering  light  in  her  eyes  which  did  not 
fade  until  the  men  were  lost  to  view  far  up  the  river 
trail.  Then  she  breathed  deeply  and  turned  into  the 
house,  oblivious  to  Constantine  and  the  young  squaw, 
who  held  the  sick  baby  up  for  her  inspection. 

The  hazards  of  winter  travel  in  the  North  are  mani 
fold  at  best,  but  the  country  which  Emerson  and  his 

72 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

companions  had  to  traverse  was  particularly  perilous, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  their  course  led  them  over  the 
backbone  of  the  great  Alaskan  Range,  that  desolate, 
skyscraping  rampart  which  interposes  itself  between 
the  hate  of  the  Arctic  seas  and  the  tossing  wilderness 
of  the  North  Pacific.  This  range  forms  a  giant,  ice- 
armored  tusk  thrust  out  to  the  westward  and  curved 
like  the  horn  of  an  African  rhino,  its  tip  pointed  eight 
hundred  miles  toward  the  Asiatic  coast,  its  soaring 
peaks  veiled  in  perpetual  mist  and  volcanic  fumes,  its 
slopes  agleam  with  lonely  ice-fields.  It  is  a  saw- 
toothed  ridge,  for  the  most  part  narrow,  unbroken, 
and  cruel,  and  the  rival  winter  gales  roar  over  it  in  a 
never-ceasing  war.  On  the  north  lies  the  Forgotten 
Land,  to  the  south  are  the  tempered  reaches  of  the 
Pacific.  In  summer  the  stern  sweep  of  rock  and 
tundra  is  soaked  with  weeping  rains,  and  given  over  to 
the  herding  caribou  or  the  great  grass-eating  bear; 
but  when  from  the  polar  regions  the  white  hand  of 
winter  stretches  forth,  the  grieving  seas  lift  themselves, 
the  rain  turns  to  bitter,  hail-burdened  hurricanes  that 
charge  and  retreat  in  a  death-dealing  conflict,  sheath 
ing  the  barrier  anew,  and  confounding  the  hearts  of 
men  on  land  and  sea.  The  coast  is  unlighted  and  badly 
mapped,  hence  the  shore  is  a  graveyard  for  ships,  while 
through  the  guts,  which  at  intervals  penetrate  the 
range,  the  blizzards  screech  until  travellers  burrow  into 
drifts  to  avoid  their  fury  or  lie  out  in  stiff  sleeping-bags 
exposed  to  their  anger.  It  is  a  region  of  sudden  storms, 
a  battle-ground  of  the  elements,  which  have  swept  it 
naked  of  cover  in  ages  past,  and  it  is  peopled  scantily 
by  handfuls  of  coughing  natives,  whose  igloos  are  hidden 
in  hollows  or  chained  to  the  ground  with  cables  and 
ship's  gear. 

73 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

It  was  thither  the  travellers  were  bound,  headed 
toward  Katmai  Pass,  which  is  no  more  than  a  gap 
between  peaks,  through  which  the  hibernal  gales  suck 
and  swirl.  This  pass  is  even  balder  than  the  surround 
ing  barrens,  for  it  forms  a  funnel  at  each  end,  confining 
the  winds  and  affording  them  freer  course.  Notwith 
standing  the  fact  that  it  had  an  appalling  death-list 
and  was  religiously  shunned,  Emerson  would  hearken 
to  no  argument  for  a  safer  route,  insisting  that  they 
could  spare  no  time  for  detours.  Nothing  dampened 
his  spirits,  no  hardship  daunted  him;  he  was  tireless, 
ferocious  in  his  haste. 

A  week  of  hard  travel  found  them  camped  in  the  last 
fringe  of  cottonwood  that  fronted  the  glacial  slopes, 
their  number  augmented  now  by  a  native  from  a 
Russian  village  with  an  unpronounceable  name,  who, 
at  the  price  of  an  extortionate  bribe,  had  agreed  to  pilot 
them  through.  For  three  days  they  lay  idle,  the  taut 
walls  of  their  tent  thrumming  to  an  incessant  fusillade 
of  ice  particles  that  whirled  down  ahead  of  the  blast, 
while  Emerson  fumed  to  be  gone. 

The  fourth  morning  broke  still  and  quiet;  but,  after 
a  careful  scrutiny  of  the  peaks,  the  Indian  shook  his 
head  and  spoke  to  Bait,  who  nodded  in  agreement. 

"What's  the  matter?"  growled  Emerson.  "Why 
don't  we  get  under  way?"  But  the  other  replied: 

"Not  to-day.  Them  tips  are  smoking,  see!"  He 
indicated  certain  gauzy  streamers  that  floated  like 
vapor  from  the  highest  pinnacles.  "That's  snow,  dry 
snow,  and  it  shows  that  the  wind  is  blowing  up  there. 
We  dassent  tackle  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  we  must  lie  here  waiting  for  an 
absolutely  calm  day?" 

"Exactly," 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Why,  it  may  be  a  week!" 

"It  may  be  two  of  them;  then,  again,  it  may  be  all 
right  to-morrow." 

"Nonsense!     That  breeze  won't  hurt  anybody." 

"  Breeze !"  Bait  laughed.  "  It's  more  like  a  tornado 
up  yonder.  No,  we've  just  got  to  take  it  easy  till  the 
right  moment  comes,  and  then  make  a  dash.  It's  thirty 
miles  to  the  nearest  stick  of  timber;  and  once  you  get 
into  the  Pass,  you  can't  stop  till  you're  through." 

Still  unconvinced,  and  surly  at  the  delay,  Emerson 
resigned  himself,  while  Bait  saw  to  their  sled,  tended 
the  dogs,  and  made  final  preparations.  "Fingerless" 
Fraser  lay  flat  on  his  back  and  nursed  a  pair  of  swollen 
tendons  that  had  been  galled  by  his  snowshoe  thongs, 
reviling  at  the  fortune  that  had  cast  him  into  such  in 
hospitable  surroundings,  heaping  anathemas  upon  the 
head  of  him  who  had  invented  snowshoes,  complaining 
of  everything  in  general,  from  the  indigestible  quality 
of  baking-powder  bread  to  the  odor  of  the  guide  who 
crouched  stolidly  beside  the  stove,  feeding  it  with 
green  willows  and  twisted  withes. 

The  next  dawn  showed  the  mountain  peaks  limned 
like  clean-cut  ivory  against  the  steel-blue  sky,  and  as 
they  crept  up  through  the  defiles  the  air  was  so  motion 
less  that  the  smoke  of  their  pipes  hung  about  their 
heads,  while  the  creak  of  their  soles  upon  the  dry  sur 
face  of  the  snow  roused  echoes  from  the  walls  on  either 
side.  At  first  their  progress  was  rapid,  but  in  time 
the  drifts  grew  deeper,  and  they  came  to  bluffs  where 
they  were  forced  to  notch  footholds,  unpack  their  load 
and  relay  it  to  the  top,  then  free  the  dogs,  and  haul  the 
sled  up  with  a  rope,  hand  over  hand.  These  labors, 
besides  being  intensely  fatiguing,  delayed  them  con 
siderably,  added  to  which  the  higher  altitudes  were 

75 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

covered  with  a  soft  eider-down  that  reached  nearly  to 
their  knees  and  shoved  ahead  of  the  sled  in  great  masses. 
Thus  they  dragged  their  burden  through  instead  of 
over  it. 

By  mid-day  they  had  gained  the  summit,  and  found 
themselves  in  the  heart  of  a  huge  desolation,  hedged 
in  by  a  chaos  of  peaks  and  pinnacles,  the  snows  un 
broken  by  twig  or  bush,  un tracked  by  living  sign. 
Here  and  there  the  dark  face  of  some  white-cowled 
rock  or  cliff  scowled  at  them,  and  although  they  were 
drenched  with  sweat  and  parched  from  thirst,  nowhere 
was  there  the  faintest  tinkle  of  running  water,  while 
the  dry  powder  under  foot  scratched  their  throats  like 
iron  filings  when  they  turned  to  it  for  relief.  All  were 
jaded  and  silent,  save  Emerson,  who  urged  them  on 
incessantly. 

It  was  early  in  the  afternoon  when  the  Indian 
stopped  and  began  testing  the  air;  Bait  also  seemed  sud 
denly  to  scent  a  change  in  the  atmospheric  conditions. 

"What's  wrong  now?"  Emerson  asked,  gruffly. 

"Feels  like  wind,"  answered  the  big  man,  with  a 
shake  of  his  head.  The  native  began  to  chatter  excited 
ly,  and  as  they  stood  there  a  chill  draught  fanned  their 
cheeks.  Glancing  upward  at  the  hillsides,  they  saw 
that  the  air  was  now  thickened  as  if  by  smoke,  and,  drop 
ping  their  eyes,  they  saw  the  fluff  beneath  their  feet  stir 
lazily.  Little  wisps  of  snow- vapor  began  to  dance  upon 
the  ridges,  whisking  out  of  sight  as  suddenly  as  they 
appeared.  They  became  conscious  of  a  sudden  fall 
in  the  temperature,  and  they  knew  that  the  cold  of  in 
terstellar  space  dwelt  in  that  ghostly  breath  which 
smote  them.  Before  they  were  well  aware  of  the 
ominous  significance  of  these  signs  the  storm  was  upon 
them,  sweeping  through  the  chute  wherein  they  stood 

76 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

with  rapidly  increasing  violence.  The  terrible,  unseen 
hand  of  the  Frozen  North  had  unleashed  its  brood  of 
furies,  and  the  air  rang  with  their  hideous  cries.  It  was 
Dante's  third  circle  of  hell  let  loose — Cerberus  baying 
through  his  wide,  threefold  throat,  and  the  voices  of 
tormented  souls  shrilling  through  the  infernal  shades. 
It  came  from  behind  them,  lifting  the  fur  on  the  backs 
of  the  wolf-dogs  and  filling  it  with  powder,  pelting  their 
hides  with  sharp  particles  until  they  refused  to  stand 
before  it,  and  turned  and  crouched  with  flattened  ears 
in  the  shelter  of  the  sled.  In  an  instant  the  wet  faces 
of  the  men  were  dried  and  their  steaming  garments 
hardened  to  shells,  while  their  blood  began  to  move 
more  sluggishly. 

Fraser  shouted  something,  but  Emerson's  whipping 
garments  drowned  the  words,  and  without  waiting  to 
ascertain  what  the  adventurer  had  said  the  young 
man  ran  forward  and  cut  the  dogs  loose,  while  Bait 
and  the  guide  fell  to  unlashing  the  sled,  the  tails  of 
their  parkas  meanwhile  snapping  like  boat  sails,  their 
cap  strings  streaming.  As  they  freed  the  last  knot 
the  hurricane  ripped  the  edge  of  the  tarpaulin  from 
their  clumsy  ringers,  and,  seizing  a  loosely  folded  blanket 
belonging  to  the  native,  snatched  it  away.  The  fellow 
clutched  wildly  at  it,  but  the  cloth  sailed  ahead  of  the 
blast  as  if  on  wings,  then,  dropping  to  the  surface  of 
the  snow,  opened  out,  whereupon  some  twisting  current 
bore  it  aloft  again,  and  it  swooped  down  the  hill  like  a 
great  bat,  followed  by  a  wail  of  despair  from  the 
owner.  Other  loose  articles  on  the  top  of  the  load  were 
picked  up  like  chaff — coffee  pot,  frying  pan,  and  dishes 
— then  hurtled  away  like  charges  of  canister,  rolling, 
leaping,  skipping  down  into  the  swale  ahead,  then  up 
over  the  next  ridge  and  out  of  sight.  But  the  men 

77 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

were  too  fiercely  beset  by  the  confusion  to  notice  their 
loss.  There  was  no  question  of  facing  the  wind,  for 
it  was  more  cruel  than  the  fierce  breath  of  an  open 
furnace,  searing  the  naked  flesh  like  a  flame. 

All  the  morning  the  air  had  hung  in  perfect  poise, 
but  some  change  of  temperature  away  out  over  one 
of  the  rival  oceans  had  upset  the  aerostatic  balance, 
and  the  wind  tore  through  this  gap  like  the  torrent 
below  a  broken  reservoir. 

The  contour  of  the  surrounding  hills  altered,  the 
whole  country  took  on  a  different  aspect,  due  to  the 
rapid  charging  of  the  atmosphere,  the  limits  of  vision 
grew  shorter  and  strangely  distorted.  Although  as 
yet  the  snows  were  barely  beginning  to  move,  the  men 
knew  they  would  shortly  be  forced  to  grope  their  way 
through  dense  clouds  that  would  blot  out  every  land 
mark,  and  the  touch  of  which  would  be  like  the  stroke 
of  a  red-hot  rasp. 

Bait  came  close  to  Emerson,  and  bellowed  into  his  ear : 

"What  shall  we  do?  Roll  up  in  the  bedding  or 
run  for  it?" 

"  How  far  is  it  to  timber?" 

"Twelve  or  fifteen  miles." 

"  Let's  run  for  it!  We're  out  of  grub,  anyhow,  and 
this  may  last  for  days." 

There  was  no  use  of  trying  to  secure  additional 
clothing  from  the  supply  in  the  sled,  so  they  abandoned 
their  outfit  and  allowed  themselves  to  be  driven  ahead 
of  the  storm,  trusting  to  the  native's  sense  of  direction 
and  keeping  close  together.  The  dogs  were  already 
well  drifted  over,  and  refused  to  stir. 

Once  they  were  gone  a  stone's  throw  from  the  sled 
there  was  no  turning  back,  and  although  the  wind  was 
behind  them  progress  was  difficult,  for  they  came  upon 

78 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

chasms  which  they  had  to  avoid ;  they  crossed  slippery 
slopes,  where  the  storm  had  bared  the  hard  crust  and 
which  their  feet  refused  to  grip.  In  such  places  they 
had  to  creep  on  hands  and  knees,  calling  to  one  an 
other  for  guidance.  They  were  numbed,  blinded, 
choked  by  the  rage  of  the  blizzard;  their  faces  grew 
stiff,  and  their  lungs  froze.  At  times  they  fell,  and  were 
skidded  along  ahead  of  the  blasts.  This  forced  them 
to  crawl  back  again,  for  they  dared  not  lose  their 
course.  At  one  place  they  followed  a  hog-back,  where 
the  rocks  came  to  a  sharp  ridge  like  the  summit  of  a 
roof,  this  they  bestrode,  inching  along  a  foot  at  a 
time,  wearing  through  the  palms  of  their  mittens  and 
chafing  their  garments.  No  cloth  could  withstand  the 
roughened  surfaces,  and  in  time  the  bare  flesh  of  their 
hands  became  exposed,  but  there  was  little  sensation, 
and  no  time  for  rest  or  means  of  relief.  Soon  they 
began  to  leave  blood  stains  behind  them. 

All  four  men  were  old  in  the  ways  of  the  North,  and, 
knowing  their  present  extremity,  they  steeled  them 
selves  to  suffering,  but  their  tortures  were  intense,  not 
the  least  of  which  was  thirst.  Exhaustion  comes 
quickly  under  such  conditions. 

Much  has  been  written  concerning  the  red  man's 
physical  powers  of  endurance,  but  as  a  rule  no  Indian 
is  the  equal  of  his  white  brother,  due  as  much  perhaps 
to  lack  of  mental  force  as  to  generations  of  insufficient 
clothing  and  inanition,  so  it  was  not  surprising  that 
as  the  long  afternoon  dragged  to  a  close  the  Aleut  guide 
began  to  weaken.  He  paused  with  more  frequency, 
and  it  required  more  effort  to  start  him ;  he  fell  oftener 
and  rose  with  more  difficulty,  but  the  others  were 
dependent  upon  his  knowledge  of  the  trail,  and  could 
not  take  the  lead. 

79 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Darkness  found  them  staggering  on,  supporting  him 
wherever  possible.  At  length  he  became  unable  to 
guide  them  farther,  and  Bait,  who  had  once  made  the 
trip,  took  his  place,  while  the  others  dragged  the  poor 
creature  along  at  the  cost  of  their  precious  strength. 

At  one  time  he  begged  them  to  leave  him,  and  both 
Bait  and  "Fingerless"  Fraser  agreed,  but  Emerson 
would  have  none  of  it. 

"He'll  die,  anyhow,"  argued  the  fisherman. 

"He's  as  good  as  dead  now,"  supplemented  Fraser, 
"and  we  may  be  ten  miles  from  timber." 

"  I  made  him  come,  and  I'll  take  him  through,"  said 
Emerson,  stubbornly;  and  so  they  crawled  their  weary 
way,  sore  beset  with  their  dragging  burden.  Slow  at 
best,  their  advance  now  became  snail-like,  for  darkness 
had  fallen,  and  threatened  to  blot  them  out.  It  be 
trayed  them  down  declivities,  up  and  out  of  which 
they  had  to  dig  their  way.  In  such  descents  they 
were  forced  to  let  go  the  helpless  man,  whose  body 
rolled  ahead  of  them  like  a  boneless  sack;  but  these 
very  mishaps  helped  to  keep  the  spark  of  life  in  him, 
for  at  every  disheartening  pause  the  others  rubbed  and 
pounded  him,  though  they  knew  that  their  efforts  were 
hopeless,  and  would  have  been  better  spent  upon  them 
selves. 

Fraser,  never  a  strong  man,  gave  out  in  time,  and  it 
looked  as  if  he  might  overtax  the  powers  of  the  other 
two,  but  Bait's  strength  was  that  of  a  bull,  while  Emer 
son  subsisted  on  his  nerve,  fairly  consuming  his  soul. 

They  grew  faint  and  sick,  and  knew  themselves  to 
be  badly  frozen;  but  their  leader  spurred  them  on, 
draining  himself  in  the  effort.  For  the  first  time 
Emerson  realized  that  the  adventurer  had  been  a  drag 
on  him  ever  since  their  meeting. 

80 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

They  had  long  since  lost  all  track  of  time  and  place, 
trusting  blindly  to  a  downward  course.  The  hurricane 
still  harried  them  with  unabated  fury,  when  all  at  once 
they  came  to  another  bluff  where  the  ground  fell  away 
abruptly.  Without  waiting  to  investigate  whether 
the  slope  terminated  in  a  drift  or  a  precipice,  they 
flung  themselves  over.  Down  they  floundered,  the 
two  half-insensible  men  tangled  together  as  if  in  a  race 
for  total  oblivion,  only  to  plunge  through  a  thicket  of 
willow  tops  that  whipped  and  stung  them.  On  they 
went,  now  vastly  heartened,  over  another  ridge,  down 
another  declivity,  and  then  into  a  grove  of  spruce 
timber,  where  the  air  suddenly  stilled,  and  only  the 
tree-tops  told  of  the  rushing  wind  above. 

It  was  well-nigh  an  hour  before  Bait  and  Emerson 
succeeded  in  starting  a  fire,  for  it  was  desperate  work 
groping  for  dry  branches,  and  they  themselves  were  on 
the  verge  of  collapse  before  the  timid  blaze  finally 
showed  the  two  more  unfortunate  ones  huddled  to 
gether. 

Cherry  had  given  Emerson  a  flask  of  liquor  before 
starting,  and  this  he  now  divided  between  Fraser  and 
the  guide,  having  wisely  refused  it  to  them  until 
shelter  was  secured.  Then  he  melted  snow  in  Bait's 
tin  cup  and  poured  pints  of  hot  water  into  the  pair 
until  the  adventurer  began  to  rally;  but  the  Aleut  was 
too  far  gone,  and  an  hour  before  the  laggard  dawn 
came  he  died. 

They  walked  Fraser  around  the  fire  all  night,  thresh 
ing  his  tortured  body  and  fighting  off  their  own  deadly 
weariness,  meanwhile  absorbing  the  insufficient  heat 
of  the  flames. 

When  daylight  came  they  tried  hard  to  lash  the 
corpse  into  a  spruce-top,  but  their  strength  was  un- 

81 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

equal  to  the  task,  and  they  were  forced  to  leave  the 
body  to  the  mercy  of  the  wolves  as  they  turned  their 
faces  expectantly  down  the  valley  toward  the  village. 

The  day  was  well  spent  when  they  struggled  into 
Katmai  and  plodded  up  to  a  half-rotted  log  store,  the 
roof  of  which  was  protected  from  the  winter  gales  by 
two  anchor  chains  passed  over  the  ridge  and  made  fast 
to  posts  well  buried  in  the  ground.  A  globular,  quarter- 
breed  Russian  trader,  with  eyes  so  crossed  that  he  could 
distinguish  nothing  at  a  yard's  distance,  took  them  in 
and  administered  to  their  most  crying  needs,  then 
dispatched  an  outfit  for  the  guide's  body. 

The  initial  stage  of  the  journey,  Emerson  realized 
with  thanksgiving,  was  over.  As  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  talk  he  inquired  straightway  concerning  the  mail- 
boat. 

"  She  called  here  three  days  ago,  bound  west,"  said 
the  trader. 

"That's  all  right.  She'll  be  back  in  about  a  week, 
eh?" 

"No;  she  won't  stop  here  coming  back.  Her  con 
tract  don't  call  for  it." 

"What!"     Emerson  felt  himself  sickening. 

"No,  she  won't  call  here  till  next  month;  and  then 
if  it's  storming  she'll  go  on  to  the  westward,  and  land 
on  her  way  back." 

"  How  long  will  that  be?" 

"Maybe  seven  or  eight  weeks." 

In  his  weakened  condition  the  young  man  groped  for 
the  counter  to  support  himself.  So  the  storm's  delay 
at  the  foot  of  the  Pass  had  undone  him!  Fate,  in  the 
guise  of  Winter,  had  unfurled  those  floating  snow-ban 
ners  from  the  mountain  peaks  to  thwart  him  once  more ! 
Instead  of  losing  the  accursed  thing  that  had  hung 

82 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

over  him  these  past  three  years,  it  had  merely  redoubled 
its  hold;  that  mocking  power  had  held  the  bait  of 
Tantalus  before  his  eyes,  only  to  hurl  him  back  into 
hopeless  despair;  for,  figuring  with  the  utmost  nicety, 
he  had  reckoned  that  there  was  just  time  to  execute 
his  mission,  and  even  a  month's  delay  would  mean 
certain  failure.  He  turned  hopelessly  toward  his  two 
companions,  but  Fraser  had  relapsed  into  a  state  of 
coma,  while  Big  George  was  asleep  beside  the  stove. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  silent  and  musing,  while 
the  fat  storekeeper  regarded  him  stupidly;  then  he 
fumbled  with  clumsy  fingers  at  his  breast,  and  pro 
duced  the  folded  page  of  a  magazine.  He  held  it  for 
a  time  without  opening  it;  then  crushed  it  slowly  in  his 
fist,  and  flung  the  crumpled  ball  into  the  open  coals. 

He  sighed  heavily,  and  turned  upon  the  trader  a 
frost-blackened  countenance,  out  of  which  all  the  light 
had  gone. 

"Give  us  beds,"  he  said;  "we  want  to  sleep." 


CHAPTER  VII 

AND  NEPTUNE  TAKES  ANOTHER 

OUT  of  consideration  for  his  companions,  Emerson 
did  not  acquaint  them  with  the  evil  tidings  until 
the  next  morning;  moreover,  he  was  swallowed  up  in 
black  despair,  and  had  no  heart  left  in  him  for  any 
further  exertion.  He  had  allowed  the  Russian  to  show 
him  to  a  bed,  upon  which  he  flung  himself,  half  dressed, 
while  the  others  followed  suit.  But  he  was  too  tired 
to  sleep.  His  nerves  had  been  filed  to  such  a  fine 
edge  that  slumber  became  a  process  which  required 
long  hours  of  coaxing,  during  which  he  tossed  restlessly, 
a  prey  to  those  hideous  nightmares  that  lurk  on  the 
border-land  of  dreams.  His  distorted  imagination 
flung  him  again  and  again  into  the  agonizing  maelstrom 
of  the  last  thirt)r-six  hours,  and  in  his  waking  moments 
the  gaunt  spectre  of  failure  haunted  him.  This  was 
no  new  apparition,  but  never  before  had  it  appeared  so 
horrible  as  now.  He  was  too  worn  out  to  rave,  his 
strength  was  spent,  and  his  mind  wandered  hither  and 
thither  like  a  rudderless  ship.  So  he  lay  staring  into 
the  dark  with  dull,  tragic  eyes,  utterly  inert,  his  body 
racked  by  a  thousand  pains. 

Nor  did  "Fingerless"  Fraser  meet  with  better  fortune. 
He  found  little  rest  or  sleep,  and  burdened  the  night 
with  his  groanings.  His  condition  called  for  the  fre 
quent  attendance  of  the  trader,  who  ministered  to  his 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

needs  with  the  ease  and  certainty  of  long  practice, 
rousing  him  now  and  then  to  give  him  nourishment, 
and  redressing  his  frozen  members  when  necessary. 
As  for  Bait,  he  slept  like  an  Eskimo  dog,  wrapped  in 
the  senseless  trance  of  complete  physical  relaxation. 
Being  a  creature  of  no  imagination,  he  had  taxed  noth 
ing  beyond  his  body,  which  was  capable  of  tremendous 
resistance,  wherefore  he  escaped  the  nerve-racking 
torment  and  mental  distress  of  the  others. 

As  warmth  and  repose  gradually  adjusted  the  balance 
between  mind  and  body,  Emerson  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep,  and  it  was  late  in  the  day  when  he  awoke,  every 
muscle  aching,  every  joint  stiff,  every  step  attended 
with  pain.  He  found  his  companions  up  and  already 
breakfasted,  Big  George  none  the  worse  for  his  ordeal, 
while  Fraser,  bandaged  and  smarting,  was  his  old 
shrewd  self.  Emerson's  first  inquiry  was  for  the  body 
of  the  guide. 

"They  brought  him  in  this  morning,"  answered  the 
fisherman.  "  He's  in  cold  storage  at  the  church.  When 
the  priest  comes  over  next  month  they'll  bury  him." 

"He  was  a  right  nice  feller,"  said  Fraser,  "but  I'm 
glad  I  ain't  in  his  mukluks.  If  you  two  hadn't  stuck 
to  me — well,  him  and  me  would  have  done  a  brother  act 
at  this  church  festival." 

"How  are  your  frost-bites?"  Emerson  asked,  seating 
himself  with  painful  care. 

"Fine — all  but  the  bum  hook."  He  held  up  his 
crippled  hand,  which  was  well  bandaged.  "  However, 
I  guess  I  can  save  my  gun-finger,  so  all  is  not  lost." 

"  Have  you  heard  about  the  mail-boat?" 

"No." 

"We've  missed  her." 

"  What  d'  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Big  George,  blankly. 
85 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  mean  that  the  storm  delayed  us  just  long  enough 
to  ruin  us." 

"Why — er — let's  wait  till  the  next  trip,"  offered  the 
fisherman. 

Emerson  shook  his  head.  "  She  may  not  be  back 
here  for  eight  weeks.  No!  We're  done  for." 

Bait  was  like  a  big  boy  in  distress.  His  face  wrinkled 
as  if  he  were  about  to  burst  into  loud  lamentations; 
then  a  thought  seized  him. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do!"  he  cried,  with  a  heavy 
attempt  at  meeting  the  problem.  "We'll  put  off  the 
scheme  for  a  year.  We'll  take  plenty  of  time,  and  open 
up  a  year  from  next  spring." 

"  No,"  said  Emerson,  with  a  dejected  shake  of  the 
head.  "  If  I  can't  put  it  through  on  the  flash,  I  can't 
do  it  at  all.  My  time  is  up.  I'm  down  and  out.  All 
our  pretty  plans  have  gone  to  smash.  You'd  better  go 
back  to  Kalvik,  George." 

At  this  suggestion,  Bait  rose  ponderously  and  began 
to  rave.  To  see  his  vengeance  slip  from  his  grasp  en 
raged  him.  He  cursed  shockingly,  clinching  his  great 
fists  above  his  head,  and  grinding  forth  imprecations 
which  caused  Fraser  to  quail  and  cry  out  aghast: 

"Hey,  you!  Quit  that!  D'you  want  to  hang  a 
Jonah  onto  us?" 

But  the  fisherman  only  goaded  himself  into  a  greater 
passion,  during  which  Petellin,  the  storekeeper,  entered, 
and  forthwith  began  to  cross  himself  devoutly.  Ob 
serving  this  fervent  pantomime,  Bait  turned  upon  the 
trader  and  directed  his  outburst  at  him: 

"Where  in  hell  is  this  steamer?" 

"Out  to  the  westward  somewhere." 

"  Well,  she's  a  mail-boat,  ain't  she  ?  Then  why  don't 
she  stop  here  coming  back?  Answer  me!" 

86 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

The  rotund  man  shrugged  his  fat  shoulders.  "  She's 
got  to  call  at  Uyak  Bay  going  east." 

Emerson  looked  up  quickly.     "  Where  is  Uyak  Bay  ?" 

"Over  on  Kodiak  Island,"  Big  George  answered; 
then  turned  again  to  vent  his  spleen  on  the  trader. 

"  What  right  have  them  steamboat  people  got  to  cut 
out  this  place  for  an  empty  cannery?  Why,  there 
ain't  nobody  at  Uyak.  It's  more  of  that  damned 
Company  business.  They  own  this  whole  country,  and 
run  it  to  suit  themselves." 

"She  ain't  my  boat,"  said  Petellin.  "You'd  ought 
to  have  got  here  a  few  days  sooner." 

"My  God!  I'm  sorry  we  waited  at  the  Pass,"  said 
Emerson.  "  The  weather  couldn't  have  been  any  worse 
that  first  day  than  it  was  when  we  came  across." 

Detecting  in  this  remark  a  criticism  of  his  caution, 
Big  George  turned  about  and  faced  the  speaker;  but 
as  he  met  Emerson's  eye  he  checked  the  explosion,  and, 
seizing  his  cap,  bolted  out  into  the  cold  to  walk  off  his 
mad  rage. 

"  When  is  the  boat  due  at  Uyak  ?"  Emerson  asked. 

'  'Most  any  time  inside  of  a  week." 

"How  far  is  that  from  here?" 

"It  ain't  so  far — only  about  fifty  miles."  Then, 
catching  the  light  that  flamed  into  the  miner's  eyes, 
Petellin  hastened  to  observe:  "  But  you  can't  get  there- 
It's  across  the  Straits— Shelikof  Straits." 

"What  of  that!     We  can  hire  a  sail-boat,  and — " 

"  I  ain't  got  any  sail-boat.  I  lost  my  sloop  last  year 
hunting  sea-otter." 

"We  can  hire  a  small  boat  of  some  sort,  can't  we, 
and  get  the  natives  to  put  us  across  ?  There  must  be 
plenty  of  boats  here." 

"  Nothing  but  skin  boats,  kyaks,  and  bidarkas — you 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

know.  Anyhow,  you  couldn't  cross  at  this  time  of 
year — it's  too  stormy;  these  Straits  is  the  worst  piece 
of  water  on  the  coast.  No,  you'll  have  to  wait." 

Emerson  sank  back  into  his  chair,  and  stared  hope 
lessly  at  the  fire. 

"Better  have  some  breakfast,"  the  trader  continued; 
but  the  other  only  shook  his  head.  And  after  a  farewell 
squint  of  curiosity,  the  fat  man  rolled  out  again  in 
pursuit  of  his  duties. 

"  I've  heard  tell  of  these  Shelikof  Straits,"  Fraser  re 
marked.  "  I  bunked  with  a  bear-hunter  from  Kodiak 
once,  and  he  said  they  was  certainly  some  hell  in 
winter."  When  Emerson  made  no  reply,  the  fellow's 
colorless  eyes  settled  upon  him  with  a  trace  of  solicitude, 
and  he  resumed:  "  I'm  doggone  sorry  you  lost  out,  pal, 
but  mebbe  something  '11  turn  up  yet."  Then,  seeing 
that  the  young  man  was  deaf  to  his  condolence,  he  mut 
tered:  "  So,  you've  got  'em  again,  eh?  Um!"  As 
usual  on  such  occasions,  he  fell  into  his  old  habit  of 
reading  aloud,  as  it  were,  an  imaginary  scene  to  himself: 

'"Yes,  I've  got  'em  again,'  says  Mr.  Emerson,  al 
ways  eager  to  give  entertainment  with  the  English 
language.  *  I  am  indeed  blue  this  afternoon.  Won't 
you  talk  to  me  ?  I  feel  that  the  sound  of  a  dear  friend's 
voice  will  drive  dull  care  away.' 

"'Gladly,'  says  I;  'I  am  a  silent  man  by  birth  and 
training,  and  my  thoughts  is  jewels,  but  for  you,  I'll 
scatter  them  at  large,  and  you  can  take  your  pick. 
Now,  this  salmon  business  ain't  what  it's  cracked  up  to 
be,  after  all.  It's  a  smelly  proposition,  no  matter  how 
you  take  it,  and  a  fisherman  ain't  much  better  than  a 
Reub;  ask  any  wise  guy.  I'd  rather  see  you  in  some 
profesh  that  don't  stink  so,  like  selling  scented  soap. 

88 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

There  was  a  feller  at  Dyea  who  done  well  at  it.  What 
think  you?' 

'"It's  a  dark  night  without,'  says  Mr.  Emerson, 
'and  I  fear  some  mischief  is  afoot!' 

"'But  what  of  yonder  beauteous — 

Unheeding  this  chatter,  the  disheartened  man  got 
up  at  this  juncture,  as  if  a  sudden  thought  impelled 
him,  and  followed  Bait  out  into  the  cold.  He  turned 
down  the  bank  to  the  creek,  however,  and  made  a  care 
ful  examination  of  all  the  canoes  that  went  with  the 
village.  Fifteen  minutes  later  he  had  searched  out  the 
disgruntled  fisherman,  and  cried,  excitedly: 

"  I've  got  it!     We'll  catch  that  boat  yet!" 

"  How?"  growled  the  big  man,  sourly. 

"There's  a  large  open  skin-boat,  an  oomiak,  down 
on  the  beach.  We'll  hire  a  crew  of  Indians  to  put  us 
across  to  Uyak." 

"Can't  be  done,"  said  Big  George,  still  gruffly. 
"  It's  the  wrong  season.  You  know  the  Shelikof 
Straits  is  a  bad  place  even  for  steamships  at  this 
time  of  year.  They're  like  that  Pass  up  yonder,  only 
worse." 

"  But  it's  only  fifty  miles  across." 

"  Fifty  miles  of  that  kind  of  water  in  an  open  canoe 
may  be  just  as  bad  as  five  hundred — unless  you're  lucky. 
And  I  ain't  noticed  anything  so  damned  lucky  about 
us." 

"Well,  it's  that  or  nothing.  It's  our  only  chance. 
Are  you  game?" 

"Come  on,"  cried  Big  George,  "let's  find  Petellin!" 

When  that  worthy  heard  their  desire,  he  uttered  a 
shriek  of  denial. 

"  In  summer,  yes,  but  now — you  can't  do  it.  It  has 
89 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

been  tried  too  often.  The  Straits  is  always  rough, 
and  the  weather  is  too  cold  to  sit  all  day  in  an  oomiak ; 
you'd  freeze." 

"We'll  chance  it." 

"  No,  no,  NO  !  If  it  comes  on  to  storm,  you'll  go  to 
sea.  The  tides  are  strong;  you  can't  see  your  course, 
and—" 

"We'll  use  a  compass.  Now,  you  get  me  enough 
men  to  handle  that  oomiak,  that's  a  good  fellow.  I'll 
attend  to  the  rest." 

"  But  they  won't  go,"  declared  the  little  fat  man. 
"  They  know  what  it  means.  Why — " 

"  Call  them  in.  I'll  do  the  talking."  And  accordingly 
the  storekeeper  went  in  search  of  the  village  chief, 
shaking  his  head  and  muttering  at  the  madness  of 
these  people. 

"Fingerless"  Eraser,  noticing  the  change  in  Bait  and 
Emerson  when  they  re-entered  the  store,  questioned 
them  as  to  what  had  happened;  and  in  reply  to  his 
inquiry,  Big  George  said: 

"We're  going  to  tackle  the  Straits  in  a  small  boat." 

"  What!  Not  on  your  life!  Why,  that's  the  craziest 
stunt  I  ever  heard  of.  Don't  you  know — " 

"Yes,  we  know,"  Emerson  shut  him  up,  brusquely. 
"  You  don't  have  to  go  with  us." 

"Well,  I  should  say  not.  Hunh!  Do  I  look  like 
I'd  do  a  thing  like  that?  If  I  do,  it's  because  I'm  sick. 
I  just  got  this  far  by  a  gnat's  eyelash,  and  hereinafter 
I  take  the  best  of  it  every  time." 

"  You  can  wait  for  the  mail  boat." 

"  I  certainly  can,  and,  what's  more,  I  will.  And 
I'll  register  myself,  too.  There  ain't  goin'  to  be  any 
accidents  to  me  whatever." 

Although  the  two  men  were  pleased  at  the  remote, 
9Q 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

chance  of  catching  the  steamer,  their  ardor  received  a 
serious  set-back  when  the  trader  came  in  with  the  head 
man  of  the  village  and  a  handful  of  hunters,  for  Emerson 
found  that  money  was  quite  powerless  to  tempt  them. 
Using  the  Russian  as  interpreter,  he  coaxed  and 
wheedled,  increasing  his  offer  out  of  all  proportion  to 
the  exigencies  of  the  occasion;  and  still  rinding  them 
obdurate,  in  despair  he  piled  every  coin  he  owned  upon 
the  counter.  But  the  men  only  shook  their  heads  and 
palavered  among  themselves. 

"  They  say  it's  too  cold,"  translated  Petellin.  "  They 
will  freeze,  and  money  is  no  good  to  dead  men."  An 
other  native  spoke:  "'It  is  very  stormy  this  month,' 
they  say.  'The  waves  would  sink  an  open  boat."1 

"Then  they  can  put  us  across  in  bidarkas,"  insisted 
Emerson,  who  had  noted  the  presence  of  several  of 
these  smaller  crafts,  which  are  nothing  more  than  long 
walrus-hide  canoes  completely  decked  over,  save  for 
tiny  cockpits  wherein  the  paddlers  sit.  "They  don't 
have  to  come  back  that  way;  they  can  wait  at  Uyak 
for  the  next  trip  of  the  steamer.  Why,  I'm  offering 
them  more  pay  than  they  can  make  in  ten  years." 

"Better  get  them  to  do  it,"  urged  Big  George. 
"  You'll  get  the  coin  all  back  from  them ;  they'll  have  to 
trade  here."  But  Petellin's  arguments  were  as  in 
effective  as  Emerson's,  and  after  an  hour's  futile 
haggling  the  natives  were  about  to  leave  when  Emerson 
said: 

"Ask  them  what  they'll  take  to  sell  me  a  bidarka." 

"One  hundred  dollars,"  Petellin  told  him,  after  an 
instant's  parley. 

Emerson  turned  to  George.  "Will  you  tackle  it 
alone  with  me?" 

The  fisherman  hesitated.     "  Two  of  us  couldn't  make 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

it.  Get  a  third  man,  and  I'll  go  you."  Accordingly, 
Emerson  resumed  the  subject  with  the  Indians,  but 
now  their  answer  was  short  and  decisive.  Not  one  of 
them  would  venture  forth  unless  accompanied  by  one 
of  his  own  kind,  in  whose  endurance  and  skill  with  a 
paddle  he  had  confidence.  It  seemed  as  if  fate  had 
laid  one  final  insurmountable  obstacle  in  the  path  of 
the  two  white  men,  when  "Fingerless"  Fraser,  who  had 
been  a  silent  witness  of  the  whole  scene,  spoke  up,  in 
his  voice  a  bitter  complaint: 

"  Well,  that  puts  it  up  to  me,  I  suppose.  I'm  always 
the  fall  guy,  damn  it!" 

"  You!  You  go!"  cried  Emerson,  astounded  beyond 
measure  at  this  offer,  and  still  doubting.  The  fellow 
had  so  consistently  shirked  every  hardship,  and  so  sys 
tematically  refused  every  hazard,  no  matter  how  slight! 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to,"  Fraser  flared  up,  "you 
can  just  lay  a  bet  on  that.  But  these  Siwashes  won't 
stand  the  gaff,  they're  too  wise;  so  I've  got  to,  ain't 
I?"  He  glared  belligerently  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Can  you  handle  a  boat?"  demanded  Big  George. 

"Can  I  handle  a—  Hunh!"  sniffed  the  fellow. 
"  Say,  just  because  you've  got  corns  on  your  palms 
as  big  as  pancakes,  you  needn't  think  you're  the  only 
human  that  ever  pulled  an  oar.  I  was  the  first  man 
through  Miles  Canon.  During  the  big  rush  in  '98  I 
ran  the  rapids  for  a  living.  I  got  fifty  dollars  a  trip, 
and  it  only  took  me  three  minutes  by  the  watch. 
That  was  the  only  easy  money  I  ever  picked  up. 
Why,  them  tenderfeet  used  to  cry  like  babies  when 

they  got  a  peek  at  them  rapids.     Can  I  handle  a  b -• 

Yes,  and  I  wish  I  was  back  there  right  now  instead  of 
hitched  up  with  a  pair  of  yaps  that  don't  know  when 
they're  well  off." 

92 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"But,  look  here,  Fraser,"  Emerson  spoke  up,  "I 
don't  think  you  are  strong  enough  for  this  trip.  It 
may  take  us  forty-eight  hours  of  constant  paddling 
against  wind  and  tide  to  make  Uyak.  George  and  I 
are  fit  enough,  but  you  know  you  aren't — " 

41  Fingerless "  Fraser  turned  violently  upon  the 
speaker. 

"Now,  for  Heaven's  sake,  cut  that  out,  will  you? 
Just  because  you  happened  to  give  me  a  little  lift  on 
this  cussed  Katmai  Pass,  I  s'pose  you'll  never  get  done 
throwing  it  up  to  me.  My  feet  were  sore;  that's  why 
I  petered  out.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  my  bum  '  dogs'  I'd 
have  walked  both  of  you  down;  but  they  were  sore. 
Can't  you  understand?  My  feet  were  sore." 

He  was  whining  now,  and  this  unexpected  angle  of 
the  man's  disposition  completely  confused  the  others 
and  left  them  rather  at  a  loss  what  to  say.  But  before 
they  could  make  any  comment,  he  rose  stiffly  and  blazed 
forth: 

"  But  I  won't  start  to-day.  I  hurt  too  much,  and 
my  mits  is  froze.  If  you  want  to  wait  till  I'm  healed 
up  so  I  can  die  in  comfort,  why,  go  ahead  and  buy  that 
fool-killer  boat,  and  we'll  all  commit  suicide  together." 
He  stumped  indignantly  out  of  the  room,  his  friends 
too  greatly  dumfounded  even  to  smile. 

For  the  next  two  days  the  men  rested,  replenishing 
their  strength;  but  Fraser  developed  a  wolfish  temper 
which  turned  him  into  a  veritable  chestnut  burr. 
There  was  no  handling  him.  His  scars  were  not  deep 
nor  his  hurts  serious,  however,  so  by  the  afternoon  of 
the  second  day  he  announced,  with  surly  distemper, 
that  he  would  be  ready  to  leave  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  and  the  others  accordingly  made  preparation  for 
an  early  start.  They  selected  the  most  seaworthy 

93 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

canoe,  which  at  best  was  a  treacherous  craft,  and 
stocked  it  well  with  water,  cooked  food,  and  stimulants. 

Since  their  arrival  at  Katmai  the  weather  had  con 
tinued  calm;  and  although  the  view  they  had  through 
the  frowning  headlands  showed  the  Straits  black  and 
angry,  they  prayed  that  the  wind  would  hold  off  for  an 
other  twenty-four  hours.  Again  Petellin  importuned 
them  to  forego  this  journey,  and  again  they  turned 
deaf  ears  to  his  entreaties  and  retired  early,  to  awaken 
with  the  rickety  log  store  straining  at  its  cables  under 
the  force  of  a  blizzard  that  had  blotted  out  the  moun 
tains  and  was  rousing  the  sea  to  fury.  Fraser  openly 
rejoiced,  and  Bait's  heavy  brows,  which  had  carried  a 
weight  of  trouble,  cleared;  but  Emerson  was  plunged 
into  as  black  a  mood  as  that  of  the  storm  which  had 
swallowed  up  the  landscape.  For  three  days  the 
tempest  held  them  prisoners,  then  died  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  arisen;  but  the  surf  continued  to  thunder  upon 
the  beach  for  many  hours,  while  Emerson  looked  on  with 
hopeless,  sullen  eyes.  When  at  last  they  did  set  out — a 
week,  to  a  day,  from  their  arrival  at  Katmai — it  was  to 
find  such  a  heavy  sea  running  outside  the  capes  that 
they  had  hard  shift  to  make  it  back  to  the  village, 
drenched,  dispirited,  and  well-nigh  dead  from  the  cold 
and  fatigue.  Although  Fraser  had  fully  recovered  from 
his  collapse,  he  nevertheless  complained  upon  every 
occasion,  and  whined  loudly  at  every  ache.  He 
voiced  his  tortures  eloquently,  and  bewailed  the  fate 
that  had  brought  his  fortunes  to  such  an  ebb,  burdening 
the  air  so  heavily  with  his  complaints  that  Big  George 
broke  out,  in  exasperation : 

"Shut  up!  You  don't  have  to  go  with  us!  I'd 
rather  tackle  it  alone  than  listen  to  you!" 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Emerson,  whose  patience  was 
94 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

also  worn  out  by  the  rogue's  unceasing  jeremiad. 
"We'll  try  it  without  him  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  you  will,  will  you  ?"  snorted  Eraser,  indignantly. 
"  So,  after  me  getting  well  on  purpose  to  make  this  trip, 
you  want  to  dump  me  here  with  this  fat  man.  I'll 
stand  as  much  as  anybody,  but  I  won't  stand  for  no 
deal  like  that.  No,  sir!  You  said  I  could  go,  and  I'm 
going.  Why,  I'd  rather  drown  than  stick  in  this  burgh 
with  that  greasy  Russian  porpoise.  Gee!  this  is  a 
shine  village." 

"Then  take  your  medicine  like  a  man,  and  quit 
kicking." 

"  If  you  prefer  to  swallow  your  groans,  you  do  it. 
I  like  to  make  a  fuss  when  I  suffer.  I  enjoy  it  more 
that  way." 

Again  Petellin  called  them  at  daylight,  and  they  were 
off;  this  time  with  better  success,  for  the  waves  had 
abated  sufficiently  for  them  to  venture  beyond  the 
partial  shelter  of  the  bay.  All  three  knew  the  desperate 
chance  they  were  taking,  and  they  spoke  little  as  they 
made  their  way  out  into  the  Straits.  Their  craft  was 
strange  to  them,  and  the  positions  they  were  forced  to 
occupy  soon  brought  on  cramped  muscles.  The 
bidarka  is  a  frail,  narrow  framework  over  which  is 
stretched  walrus  skin,  and  it  is  so  fashioned  that  the 
crew  sits,  one  behind  the  other,  in  circular  openings  with 
legs  straight  out  in  front.  To  keep  themselves  dry 
each  man  had  donned  a  native  water  garment — a  loose, 
hooded  shirt  manufactured  from  the  bladders  of  seals. 
These  shirts — or  kamlikas,  as  they  are  called — are  pro 
vided  with  draw-strings  at  wrists,  face,  and  bottom,  so 
that  when  the  skirt  is  stretched  over  the  rim  of  the 
cockpit  and  corded  tight,  it  renders  the  canoe  well- 
waterproof,  even  though  the  decks  are  awash. 
95 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

The  whole  contrivance  is  peculiarly  aboriginal  and  un- 
suited  to  the  uses  of  white  men;  and,  while  unusually 
seaworthy,  the  bidarka  requires  more  skill  in  the 
handling  than  does  a  Canadian  birch  bark,  hence  the 
wits  of  the  three  travellers  were  taxed  to  the  utmost. 

Out  across  the  lonesome  waste  they  journeyed, 
steadily  creeping  farther  from  the  village,  which  of  a 
sudden  seemed  a  very  safe  and  desirable  place,  with  its 
snug  store,  its  blazing  fires,  and  its  warm  beds.  The 
sea  tossed  them  like  a  cork,  coating  their  paddles  and 
the  decks  of  the  canoe  with  ice,  which  they  were  at 
great  pains  to  break  off.  It  wet  them  in  spite  of  their 
precautions,  and  its  salt  breath  searched  out  their 
marrow,  regardless  of  their  unceasing  labors;  and  these 
labors  were  in  truth  unceasing,  for  fifty  miles  of  open 
water  lay  before  them ;  fifty  miles,  which  meant  twelve 
hours  of  steady  paddling.  Gradually,  imperceptibly, 
the  mountain  shores  behind  them  shrank  down  upon 
the  gray  horizon.  It  seemed  that  for  once  the  weather 
was  going  to  be  kind  to  them,  and  their  spirits  rose  in 
consequence.  They  ate  frequently,  food  being  the 
great  fuel  of  the  North,  and  midday  found  them  well 
out  upon  the  heaving  bosom  of  the  Straits  with  the 
Kodiak  shores  plainly  visible.  Then,  as  if  tired  of 
toying  with  them,  the  wind  rose.  It  did  not  blow  up 
a  gale  —  merely  a  frigid  breath  that  cut  them  like 
steel  and  halted  their  progress.  Had  it  sprung  from 
the  north  it  would  have  wafted  them  on  their 
way,  but  it  drew  in  from  the  Pacific,  straight  into 
their  teeth,  forcing  them  to  redouble  their  exer 
tions.  It  was  not  of  sufficient  violence  to  overcome 
their  efforts,  but  it  held  them  back  and  stirred  up  a 
nasty  cross  sea  into  which  the  canoe  plunged  and  WP!- 
lowed.  In  the  hope  that  it  would  die  down  with  tne 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

darkness,  the  boatmen  held  on  their  course,  and  night 
closed  over  them  still  paddling  silently. 

It  was  nearly  noon  of  the  following  day  when  the 
watchman  at  the  Uyak  cannery  beheld  a  native  canoe 
creeping  slowly  up  the  bay,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
it  manned  by  three  white  men  in  the  last  stages  of  ex 
haustion — so  stiff  and  cramped  and  numb  that  he  was 
forced  to  help  them  from  their  places  when  at  last  they 
effected  a  landing.  One  of  them,  in  fact,  was  uncon 
scious  and  had  to  be  carried  to  the  house,  which  did 
not  surprise  the  watchman  when  he  learned  whence 
they  had  come.  He  did  marvel,  however,  that  another 
of  the  travellers  should  begin  to  cry  weakly  when  told 
that  the  mail  boat  had  sailed  for  Kodiak  the  previous 
evening.  He  gave  them  stimulants,  then  prepared  hot 
food  for  them,  for  both  Bait  and  Emerson  were  like 
sleep-walkers;  and  Fraser,  when  he  was  restored  to 
consciousness,  was  too  weak  to  stand. 

"  Too  bad  you  didn't  get  in  last  night,"  said  the  care 
taker,  sympathetically.  "She  won't  be  back  now  for 
a  month  or  more." 

"  How  long  will  she  lie  in  Kodiak  ?"  Big  George  asked. 

"  The  captain  told  me  he  was  going  to  spend  Christ 
mas  there.  Let's  see — to-day  is  the  22nd — she'll  pull 
out  for  Juneau  on  the  morning  of  the  26th;  that's 
three  days." 

"  We  must  catch  her,"  cried  Emerson,  quickly.  "  If 
you'll  land  us  in  Kodiak  on  time  I'll  pay  you  anything 
you  ask." 

"  I'd  like  to,  but  I  can't,"  the  man  replied.  "  You 
see,  I'm  here  all  alone,  except  for  Johnson.  He's  the 
watchman  for  the  other  plant." 

"  Then  for  God's  sake  get  us  some  natives.  I  don't 
care  what  it  costs." 

97 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  There  ain't  any  natives  here.  This  ain't  no  village. 
There's  nothing  here  but  these  two  plants,  and  John 
son  or  me  dassent  leave." 

Emerson  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  haggard  man 
who  sprawled  weakly  in  a  chair;  and  Fraser,  noting 
the  appeal,  answered,  gamely,  with  a  forced  smile  on 
his  lips,  though  they  were  drawn  and  bloodless: 

"Sure!     I'll  be  ready  to  leave  in  the  morning,  pal!" 

The  old  Russian  village  of  Kodiak  lies  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  island  from  the  canneries,  a  bleak,  wind 
swept  relic  of  the  country's  first  occupation,  and  al 
though  peopled  largely  by  natives  and  breeds,  there  is 
also  a  considerable  white  population,  to  whom  Christ 
mas  is  a  season  of  thanksgiving  and  celebration. 
Hence  it  was  that  the  crew  of  the  Dora  were  well  con 
tent  to  pass  the  Yuletide  there,  where  the  girls  are 
pretty  and  a  hearty  welcome  is  accorded  to  every  one. 
There  were  drinking  and  dancing  and  music  behind  the 
square-hewn  log  walls,  and  the  big  red  stoves  made 
havoc  with  the  salt  wind.  The  town  was  well  filled 
and  the  merrymaking  vigorous,  and  inasmuch  as 
winter  is  a  time  of  rest,  during  which  none  but  the  most 
foolhardy  trust  themselves  to  the  perils  of  the  sea, 
it  caused  much  comment  when  late  on  Christmas  after 
noon  an  ice-burdened  canoe,  bearing  three  strange 
white  men,  landed  on  the  beach  beside  the  dock — or 
were  they  white  men,  after  all?  Their  faces  were  so 
blackened  and  split  from  the  frost  they  seemed  to  be 
raw  bleeding  masks,  their  hands  were  cracked  and  stiff 
beneath  their  mittens.  They  were  hollow-eyed  and 
gaunt,  their  cheeks  sunken  away  as  if  from  a  wasting 
illness,  and  they  could  not  walk,  but  crept  across  the 
snow-covered  shingle  on  hands  and  knees,  then  reach- 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

ing  the  street  hobbled  painfully,  while  their  limbs  gave 
way  as  if  paralyzed.  One  of  them  lacked  strength 
even  to  leave  the  canoe,  and  when  two  sailors  ran  down 
and  lifted  him  out,  he  gabbled  strangely  in  the  jargon 
of  the  mining  camp  and  the  gambling  table.  Of  the 
other  two,  one,  a  great  awkward  shambling  giant  of  a 
creature,  stumbled  out  along  the  dock  toward  the  ship, 
his  head  hung  low  and  swinging  from  side  to  side,  his 
shoulders  drooping,  his  arms  loose-hinged,  his  knees 
bending. 

But  the  third  voyager,  who  had  with  difficulty  won 
his  way  up  to  the  level  of  the  street,  presented  the 
strangest  appearance.  There  was  something  uncanny 
about  him.  As  he  gained  the  street,  he  waved  back  all 
proffered  assistance,  then  paused,  with  his  swaying 
body  propped  upon  widespread  legs,  staring  malig 
nantly  into  the  north.  From  their  deep  sockets  his 
eyes  glittered  like  live  coals,  while  his  blackened, 
swollen  lips  split  in  a  grimace  that  bared  his  teeth. 
He  raised  his  arms  slowly  and  shook  his  clenched  fists 
defiantly  at  the  Polar  skies,  muttering  unintelligible 
things,  then  staggered  after  his  companions. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEREIN    BOYD    ADMITS    HIS    FAILURE 

A  WEEK  later  Boyd  and  George  were  watching  the 
lights  of  Port  Townsend  blink  out  in  the  gloom 
astern.  A  quick  change  of  boats  at  Juneau  had 
raised  their  spirits,  enabling  them  to  complete  the 
second  stage  of  their  journey  in  less  than  the  expected 
time,  and  the  southward  run,  out  from  the  breath 
of  the  Arctics  into  a  balmier  climate,  had  removed 
nearly  the  last  trace  of  their  suffering  from  the  frost. 

A  sort  of  meditative  silence  which  had  fallen  upon 
the  two  men  was  broken  at  last  by  George,  who  for 
some  time  had  been  showing  signs  of  uneasiness. 

"How  long  are  we  going  to  stay  in  Seattle?"  he 
inquired. 

"Only  long  enough,"  Boyd  replied,  "for  me  to 
arrange  a  connection  with  some  bank.  That  will  re 
quire  a  day,  perhaps." 

"I  suppose  a  feller  has  got  to  dress  pretty  swell  back 
there  in  Chicago,"  George  ventured. 

"Some  people  do." 

"Full-dress  suits  of  clothes,  eh?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  ever  wear  one?" 

"Certainly." 

"  Well,  I'll  be — "  The  fisherman  checked  himself  and 
gazed  at  his  companion  as  if  he  saw  him  suddenly  in  a 

100 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

new  light;  in  fact,  he  had  discovered  many  strange 
phases  of  this  young  man's  character  during  the  past 
fortnight.  "  Right  along  ?"  he  questioned,  incredulously. 

"Why,  yes.     Pretty  steadily." 

"All  day,  at  a  time?" 

Boyd  laughed.  "I  haven't  worn  one  in  the  daytime 
since  I  left  college.  They  are  used  only  at  night." 

George  pondered  this  for  some  time,  while  Emerson 
stared  out  into  the  velvet  darkness,  to  be  roused  again 
a  moment  later. 

"A  feller  told  me  a  funny  thing  once.  He  said  them 
rich  men  back  East  had  women  come  around  and 
clean  their  finger-nails,  and  shine  'em  up.  Is  that 
right?" 

"Quite  right!" 

Another  pause,  then  Bait  cleared  his  throat  and  said, 
with  an  assumption  of  carelessness: 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose — you  ever  had  'em — shine 
your  finger-nails,  did  you?" 

"Yes." 

The  big  man  opened  his  mouth  to  speak;  then, 
evidently  changing  his  mind,  observed,  "Seems  to  me 
I'd  better  stay  here  on  the  coast  and  wait  for  you." 

"No,  indeed!"  the  other  answered,  quickly.  "I  will 
need  you  in  raising  that  money.  You  know  the 
practical  side  of  the  fishing  business,  and  I  don't." 

"  All  right,  I'll  go.  If  you  can  stand  for  me,  I'll  stand 
for  the  full-dress  suits  of  clothes  and  the  finger-nail 
women.  Anyhow,  it  won't  last  long." 

"When  were  you  outside  last?" 

"Four  years  ago." 

"Ever  been  East?" 

"Sure!  I've  got  a  sister  in  Spokane  Falls.  But  I 
don't  like  it  back  there." 

101 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"You  will  have  a  good  time  in  Chicago."  Boyd 
smiled. 

"Fingerless"  Fraser  came  to  them  from  the  lighted 
regions  amidship,  greeting  them  cheerfully. 

"Well,  we're  pretty  near  there,  ain't  we?  I'm  glad 
of  it;  I've  about  cleaned  up  this  ship." 

The  adventurer  had  left  his  companions  alone 
much  of  the  time  during  the  trip — greatly  to  Boyd's 
relief,  for  the  fellow  was  an  unconscionable  bore — and 
had  thus  allowed  them  time  to  perfect  their  plans  and 
thresh  out  numberless  details. 

"I  grabbed  another  farmer's  son  at  supper — just 
got  through  with  him.  He  was  good  for  three-fifty." 

"Three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  ?"  questioned  Bait. 

"Yep!  I  opened  a  little  stud  game  for  him.  Beats 
all  how  these  suckers  fall  for  the  old  stuff." 

"Where  did  you  get  money  to  gamble  with?"  in 
quired  Boyd. 

" Oh!  I  won  a  pinch  of  change  last  night  in  a  bridge 
game  with  that  Dawson  Bunch." 

"But  it  must  have  required  a  bank-roll  to  sit  in  a 
game  with  them.  They  seem  to  be  heavy  spenders. 
How  did  you  manage  that?" 

"I  sold  some  mining  property  the  day  before.  I 
got  the  captain  of  the  ship."  Fraser  chuckled. 

"Did  you  swindle  that  old  fellow?"  Emerson  cried, 
angrily.  "See  here!  I  won't  allow — " 

"Swindle!  Who  said  I  'swindled'  anybody?  I 
wouldn't  trim  my  worst  enemy." 

"You  have  no  mining  claims." 

"What  makes  you  think  I  haven't?  Alaska  is  a 
big  country." 

"You  told  me  so." 

"Well,  I  didn't  have  any  claims  at  that  time,  but 
102 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

since  we  came  aboard  of  this  wagon  at  Juneau  I  have 
improved  each  shining  hour.  While  you  and  George 
was  building  canneries  I  was  rustling.  And  I  did  pretty 
well,  if  I  do  say  it  as  shouldn't." 

Emerson  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders.  "You  will 
get  into  trouble!  If  you  do,  I  won't  come  to  your 
rescue.  I  have  helped  you  all  I  can." 

"Not  me!"  denied  the  self-satisfied  Fraser.  "There 
ain't  a  chance.  Why?  Because  I'm  on  the  level,  I 
am.  That's  why.  But  say,  getting  money  from  these 
Reubs  is  a  joke.  It's  like  kicking  a  lamb  in  the  face." 
He  clinked  some  gold  coins  in  his  pocket  and  began  to 
whistle  noiselessly.  "When  do  we  pull  out  for  Chi?" 
he  next  inquired. 

"We?"  said  Emerson.  "I  told  you  I  would  take 
you  as  far  as  Seattle.  I  can't  stand  for  your  'work.' 
I  think  you  had  better  stop  here,  don't  you?" 

"Perhaps  it  is  for  the  best,"  Fraser  observed,  care 
lessly.  "Time  alone  can  tell."  He  bade  them  good 
night  and  disappeared  to  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep,  but 
upon  their  arrival  at  the  dock  on  the  following  morning, 
without  waiting  for  an  invitation  he  bundled  himself 
into  their  carriage  and  rode  to  the  hotel,  registering 
immediately  beneath  them.  They  soon  lost  sight  of 
him,  however,  for  their  next  move  was  in  the  direction 
of  a  clothier's,  where  they  were  outfitted  from  sole  to 
crown.  The  garments  they  stood  up  in  showed  whence 
they  had  come;  yet  the  strangeness  of  their  apparel 
excited  little  comment,  for  Seattle  is  the  gateway  to 
the  great  North  Country,  and  hither  the  Northmen 
foregather,  going  and  coming.  But  to  them  the  city 
was  very  strange  and  exciting.  The  noises  deafened 
them,  the  odors  of  civilization  now  tantalized,  now 
offended  their  nostrils;  the  crowding  streams  of  hu- 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

manity  confused  them,  fresh  from  their  long  sojourn 
in  the  silences  and  solitudes.  Every  clatter  and  crash, 
every  brazen  clang  of  gong,  caused  George  to  start; 
he  watched  his  chance  and  took  street-crossings  as  if 
pursued. 

"If  one  of  them  bells  rings  behind  me,"  he  declared, 
"I'll  jump  through  a  plate-glass  window."  When  his 
roving  eyes  first  lighted  upon  a  fruit  stand  he  bolted  for 
it  and  filled  his  pockets  with  tomatoes. 

"I've  dreamed  about  these  things  for  four  years," 
he  dedared,  "and  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer."  He 
bit  into  one  voraciously,  and  thereafter  followed  his 
companion  about  munching  tomatoes  L,t  every  step, 
refilling  his  pockets  as  his  supply  diminished.  To  show 
his  willingness  for  any  sacrifice,  he  volunteered  to  wear 
a  dress  suit  if  Emerson  would  buy  it  for  him,  and  it 
required  considerable  argument  to  convince  him  that 
the  garb  was  unnecessary. 

"You  better  train  me  up  before  we  get  East,"  he 
warned,  "or  I'll  make  your  swell  friends  sore  and  spoil 
the  deal.  I  could  wear  it  on  the  cars  and  get  easy 
in  it." 

"My  dear  fellow,  it  takes  more  than  a  week  to  'get 
easy'  in  a  dress  suit."  Boyd  smiled,  amused  at  his 
earnestness,  for  the  big  fellow  was  merely  a  boy  out  on 
a  wonderful  vacation. 

"Well,  if  there  is  a  Down-East  manicure  woman  in 
Seattle,  show  her  to  me  and  I'll  practice  on  her,"  he 
insisted.  "She  can  halter-break  me,  at  least." 

"Yes,  it  might  not  hurt  to  get  that  off  your  hands," 
Emerson  acknowledged,  at  which  the  clothier's  clerk, 
who  had  noted  the  condition  of  the  fisherman's  huge 
paws,  snickered  audibly. 

It  was  a  labor  of  several  hours  to  fit  Big  George's 
104 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

bulky  frame,  and  when  the  two  returned  to  the  hotel 
Emerson  found  the  representative  of  an  afternoon 
newspaper  anxiously  awaiting  him  at  the  desk. 

"We  noticed  your  arrival  from  the  North,"  began 
the  reporter,  "and  Mr.  Athens  sent  me  down  to  get 
a  story." 

"Athens!     Billy  Athens?" 

"Yes!  He  is  the  editor.  I  believe  you  two  were 
college  mates.  He  wanted  to  know  if  you  are  the 
Boyd  Emerson  of  the  Michigan  football  team." 

"Well,  well!"  Boyd  mused.  "Billy  Athens  was  a 
good  tackle." 

"  He  thought  you  might  have  something  interesting 
to  tell  about  Alaska,"  the  newspaper  man  went  on. 
"However,  I  won't  need  to  take  much  of  your  time, 
for  your  partner  has  been  telling  me  all  about  you  and 
your  trip  and  your  great  success." 

"My  partner?" 

"Yes.  Mr.  Frobisher.  He  heard  me  inquire  about 
you  and  volunteered  to  give  me  an  interview  in  your 
name." 

"Frobisher!"  said  Emerson,  now  thoroughly  mysti 
fied. 

"Sure,  that's  him,  over  yonder."  The  reporter  in 
dicated  "Fingerless"  Fraser,  who,  having  watched  the 
interview  from  a  distance,  now  solemnly  closed  one 
eye  and  stuck  his  tongue  into  his  cheek. 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!  Frobisher!1'  Boyd  stammered.  "Cer 
tainly!" 

"  He  is  a  character,  isn't  he  ?  He  told  me  how  you 
rescued  that  girl  when  she  broke  through  the  ice  at 
Kalvik." 

"He  did?" 

"  Quite  a  romance,  wasn't  it  ?  It  is  a  good  newspaper 
105 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

story  and  I'll  play  it  up.  He  is  going  to  let  me  in  on 
that  hydraulic  proposition  of  yours,  too.  Of  course  I 
haven't  much  money,  but  it  sounds  great,  and — " 

"How  far  along  did  you  get  with  your  negotiations 
about  this  hydraulic  proposition?"  Boyd  asked,  curi 
ously. 

"Just  far  enough  so  I'm  all  on  edge  for  it.  I'll  make 
up  a  little  pool  among  the  boys  at  the  office  and  have 
the  money  down  here  before  you  leave  to-night." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  Mr.  Frobisher  and  I  will  have  to 
talk  it  over  first,"  said  Emerson,  grimly.  "I  think  we 
will  keep  that  '  hydraulic  proposition '  in  the  family,  so 
to  speak." 

"Then  you  won't  let  me  in?" 

"Not  just  at  present." 

"I'm  sorry!  I  should  like  to  take  a  chance  with 
somebody  who  is  really  successful  at  mining.  When  a 
fellow  drones  along  on  a  salary  month  after  month  it 
makes  him  envious  to  see  you  Klondikers  hit  town  with 
satchels  full  of  coin.  Perhaps  you  will  give  me  a 
chance  later  on?" 

"Perhaps,"  acceded  Boyd;  but  when  the  young  man 
had  gone  he  strode  quickly  over  to  Fraser,  who  was 
lolling  back  comfortably,  smoking  a  ridiculously  long 
cigar  with  an  elaborate  gold  band. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  'Frobisher,'"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"what  do  you  mean  by  mixing  me  up  in  your  petty- 
larceny  frauds?" 

Fraser  grinned.  "'Frobisher'  is  hot  monaker,  ain't 
it?  It  sounds  like  the  money.  I  believe  I'll  stick  to 
'Frobisher/" 

"I  spiked  your  miserable  little  scheme,  and  if  you 
try  anything  more  like  that,  I'll  have  to  cut  you  put 
altogether," 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Pshaw!"  said  the  adventurer,  mildly.  "Did  you 
say  that  hydraulic  mine  was  no  good?  Too  bad! 
That  reporter  agreed  to  take  some  stock  right  away, 
and  promised  to  get  his  editor  in  on  it,  too." 

"His  editor!"  Emerson  cried,  aghast.  "Why,  his 
editor  happens  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,  whose  assistance 
I  may  need  very  badly  when  I  get  back  from  Chicago." 

"Oh,  well!     That's  different,  of  course." 

"  Now  see  here,  Fraser,  I  want  you  to  leave  me  out 
of  your  machinations,  absolutely.  You've  been  very 
decent  to  me  in  many  ways,  but  if  I  hear  of  anything 
more  like  this  I  shall  hand  you  over  to  the  police." 

"Don't  be  a  sucker  all  your  life,"  admonished  the 
rogue.  "You  stick  to  me,  and  I'll  make  you  a  lot  of 
money.  I  like  you — " 

Emerson,  now  seriously  angry,  wheeled  and  left  him, 
realizing  that  the  fellow  was  morally  atrophied.  He 
could  not  forget,  however,  that  except  for  this  im 
possible  creature  he  himself  would  be  lying  at  Petellin's 
store  at  Katmai  with  no  faintest  hope  of  completing 
his  mission,  wherefore  he  did  his  best  to  swallow  his 
indignation. 

"  Hey!  What  time  do  we  leave  ?"  Fraser  called  after 
him,  but  the  young  man  would  not  answer,  proceeding 
instead  to  his  room,  there  to  renew  his  touch  with  the 
world  through  strange  clean  garments,  the  feel  of 
which  awakened  memories  and  spurred  him  on  to 
feverish  haste.  When  he  had  dressed  he  hurried  to  a 
telegraph  office  and  dispatched  two  messages  to 
Chicago,  one  addressed  to  his  own  tailor,  the  other  to 
a  number  on  Lake  Shore  Drive.  Over  the  latter  he 
pondered  long,  tearing  up  several  drafts  which  did  not 
suit  him,  finally  giving  one  to  the  operator  with  an  odd 
mingling  of  timidity  and  defiance.  This  done,  he 

107 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

hastened  to  one  of  the  leading  banks,  and  two  hours 
later  returned  to  the  hotel,  jubilant. 

He  found  Big  George  in  the  lobby  staring  with 
fascinated  eyes  at  his  finger-nails,  which  were  strangely 
purified  and  glossy. 

"Look  at  'em!"  the  fisherman  broke  out,  admiringly. 
"They're  as  clean  as  a  hound's  tooth.  They  shine  so 
I  dassent  take  hold  of  anything." 

"  I  have  made  my  deal  with  the  bank,"  Boyd  exulted. 
"All  I  need  to  raise  now  is  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  The  bank  will  advance  the  rest." 

"That's  great,"  said  Bait,  without  interrupting  tne 
contemplation  of  his  digits.  "That's  certainly  im 
mense.  Say!  Don't  they  glisten?" 

"They  look  very  nice — " 

"Stylish!     I  think." 

"That  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  makes  all  the 
difference  in  the  world.  The  task  is  easy,  now.  We 
will  make  it  go,  sure.  These  bankers  know  what  that 
salmon  business  is.  Why,  I  had  no  trouble  at  all. 
They  say  we  can't  lose  if  we  have  a  good  site  on  the 
Kalvik  River." 

"They're  wise,  all  right.  I  guess  that  girl  took  me 
for  a  Klondiker,"  George  observed.  "She  charged  me 
double.  But  she  was  a  nice  girl,  though.  I  was  kind 
of  rattled  when  I  walked  in  and  sat  down,  and  I  couldn't 
think  of  nothing  to  talk  about.  I  never  opened  my 
head  all  the  time,  but  she  didn't  notice  it.  When  I  left 
she  asked  me  to  come  back  again  and  have  another 
nice  long  visit.  She's  an  awful  fine  girl." 

"Look  out!"  laughed  his  companion.  "Every 
Alaskan  falls  in  love  with  a  manicurist  at  some  time  or 
other.  It  seems  to  be  in  the  blood.  We  are  going  to 
have  no  matrimony,  mind  you." 

1 08 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Lord!  She  wouldn't  look  at  me,"  said  the  fisher 
man,  suddenly,  assuming  a  lobster  pink. 

That  evening  they  dined  as  befits  men  just  out  from 
a  long  incarceration  in  the  North,  first  having  tried 
unsuccessfully  to  locate  Eraser;  for  the  rogue  was 
bound  to  them  by  the  intangible  ties  of  hardship  and 
trail  life,  and  they  could  not  bear  to  part  from  him 
without  some  expression  of  gratitude  for  the  sacrifices 
he  had  made.  But  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  not 
even  at  train  time. 

"That  seems  hardly  decent,"  Boyd  remarked.  "He 
might  at  least  have  said  good-bye  and  wished  us  well." 

"When  he's  around  he  makes  me  sore,  and  when 
he's  away  I  miss  him,"  said  George.  "He's  probably 
out  organizing  something — or  somebody." 

At  the  station  they  waited  until  the  last  warning  had 
sounded,  vainly  hoping  that  Fraser  would  put  in  an 
appearance,  then  sought  their  Pullman  more  piqued 
than  they  cared  to  admit.  When  the  train  pulled  out, 
they  went  forward  to  the  smoking  compartment,  still 
meditating  upon  this  unexpected  defection ;  but  as  they 
lighted  their  cigars,  a  familiar  voice  greeted  them : 

"Hello,  you!" — and  there  was  Fraser  grinning  at 
their  astonishment. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  they  cried,  together. 

"  Me  ?     Oh,  I'm  on  my  way  East." 

"Whereabouts  East?" 

"Chicago,  ain't  it?  I  thought  that  was  what  you 
said."  He  seated  himself  and  lighted  another  long 
cigar. 

"Are  you  going  to  Chicago?"  George  asked. 

"Sure!  We've  got  to  put  this  cannery  deal  over." 
The  crook  sighed  luxuriously  and  began  to  blow  smoke 
rings.  "Pretty  nice  train,  ain't  it?" 

109 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Yes,"  ejaculated  Emerson,  undecided  whether  to 
be  pleased  or  angered  at  the  fellow's  presence.  "  Which 
is  your  car?" 

"  This  one — same  as  yours.  I've  got  the  drawing- 
room." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  in  Chicago?" 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  fully  decided  yet,  but  I  might  do  a  little 
promoting,  Seattle  is  too  full  of  Alaskan  snares." 

Emerson  reflected  for  a  moment  before  remarking: 
"  I  dare  say  you  will  tangle  me  up  in  some  new  enter 
prise  that  will  land  us  both  in  jail,  so  for  my  own  pro 
tection  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I  have  noticed  that 
you  are  a  good  salesman,  and  if  you  will  take  up  some 
thing  legitimate — " 

"Legitimate!"  Eraser  interrupted,  with  indignation. 
"  Why,  all  my  schemes  are  legitimate.  Anybody  can 
examine  them.  If  he  don't  like  them,  he  needn't  go 
in.  If  he  weakens  on  one  proposition,  I'll  get  some 
thing  that  suits  him  better.  You've  got  me  wrong." 

"  If  you  want  to  handle  something  honest,  I'll  let 
you  place  some  of  this  cannery  stock  on  a  commission." 

"  I  don't  see  nothing  attractive  in  that  when  I  can 
sell  stock  of  my  own  and  keep  all  the  money.  Maybe 
I'll  organize  a  cannery  company  of  my  own  in 
Chicago — " 

"  If  you  do — "  Boyd  exploded. 

"Very  well!  Don't  get  sore.  I  only  just  suggested 
the  possibility.  If  that  is  your  graft,  I'll  think  up 
something  better." 

The  younger  man  shook  his  head.  "  You  are  im 
possible,"  said  he,  "and  yet  I  can't  help  liking  you." 

Late  into  the  night  they  talked,  Emerson  oscillating 
between  extreme  volubility  and  deep  abstraction.  At 
one  moment  he  was  as  gay  as  a  prospective  bridegioom, 

no 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

at  the  next  he  was  more  dejected  than  a  man  under 
sentence.  And  instead  of  growing  calmer  his  spirits 
became  more  and  more  variable  with  the  near  approach 
of  the  journey's  end. 

In  Chicago,  as  in  Seattle,  Eraser  accompanied  his 
fellow-travellers  to  their  hotel,  and  would  have  regis 
tered  himself  under  some  high-sounding  alias  except 
for  a  whispered  threat  from  Boyd.  That  young 
gentleman,  after  seeing  his  companions  comfortably  en 
sconced,  left  them  to  their  own  devices  while  he  drove 
to  the  tailor  to  whom  he  had  telegraphed,  returning 
in  a  short  time  garbed  in  new  clothes.  He  found  Eraser 
sipping  a  solitary  cocktail  and  visiting  with  the  bar 
tender  on  the  closest  terms  of  intimacy. 

"George?"  said  that  one,  in  answer  to  his  inquiry. 
"Oh,  George  has  gone  on  a  still-hunt  for  a  manicure 
parlor.  Ain't  that  a  rave?  He's  gone  finger-mad. 
He'd  ought  to  have  them  front  feet  shod.  He  don't 
need  a  mamourist;  what  he  wants  is  a  blacksmith." 

"  He  is  rather  out  of  his  latitude,  so  I  wish  you  would 
keep  an  eye  on  him,"  Boyd  said. 

"  All  right!  I'll  take  him  out  in  the  park  on  a  leash, 
but  if  he  tries  to  bite  anybody  I'll  have  to  muzzle  him. 
He  ain't  safe  in  the  heart  of  a  great  city;  he's  a  menace 
to  the  life  and  limb  of  every  manicure  woman  who 
crosses  his  path.  You  gave  him  an  awful  push  on  the 
downward  path  when  you  laid  him  against  this  finger 
stuff." 

Promptly  at  four  o'clock  Emerson  called  a  cab  and 
was  driven  toward  the  North  Side.  As  the  vehicle 
rolled  up  Lake  Shore  Drive  the  excitement  under 
which  he  had  been  laboring  for  days  increased  until 
he  tapped  his  feet  nervously,  clenched  his  gloved 
fingers,  and  patted  the  cushions  as  if  to  accelerate  the 

j  1 1 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

horse's  footfalls.  Would  he  never  arrive !  The  animal 
appeared  to  crawl  more  slowly  every  moment,  the 
rubber-rimmed  wheels  to  turn  more  sluggishly  with 
each  revolution.  He  called  to  the  driver  to  hurry, 
then  found  himself  of  a  sudden  gripped  by  an  over 
powering  hesitation,  and  grew  frightened  at  his  own 
haste.  The  close  atmosphere  of  the  cab  seemed  to 
stifle  him:  he  jerked  the  window  open,  flung  back  the 
lapels  of  his  great  coat,  and  inhaled  the  sharp  Lake 
air  in  deep  breaths.  Why  did  that  driver  lash  a 
willing  steed?  They  were  nearly  there,  and  he  was 
not  ready  yet.  He  leaned  out  to  check  their  speed, 
then  closed  his  lips  and  settled  back  in  his  seat,  staring 
at  the  houses  slipping  past.  How  well  he  remembered 
every  one  of  them! 

The  dark  stone  frowned  at  him,  the  leaded  win 
dows  stared  at  him  through  a  blind  film  of  unrecog- 
nition,  the  carven  gargoyles  grinned  mockingly  at 
him. 

It  all  oppressed  him  heavily  and  crushed  whatever 
hope  had  lain  at  his  heart  when  he  left  the  hotel.  Never 
before  had  his  goal  seemed  so  unattainable ;  never  before 
had  he  felt  so  bitterly  the  cruelty  of  riches,  the  hope 
lessness  of  poverty. 

The  vehicle  drew  up  at  last  before  one  of  the  most 
pretentious  residences,  a  massive  pile  of  stone  and 
brick  fronting  the  Lake  with  what  seemed  to  him  a 
singularly  proud  and  chilling  aspect.  His  hand  shook 
as  he  paid  the  driver,  and  it  was  a  very  pale  though 
very  erect  young  man  who  mounted  the  stone  steps  to 
the  bell.  Despite  the  stiffness  with  which  he  held  him 
self,  he  felt  the  muscles  at  his  knees  trembling  weak 
ly,  while  his  lungs  did  not  seem  to  fill,  even  when  he 
inhaled  deeply.  During  the  moments  that  he  waited 

112 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

he  found  his  body  pulsating  to  the  slow,  heavy  thump 
ing  of  his  heart;  then  a  familiar  face  greeted  him. 

"How  do  you  do,  Hawkins,"  he  heard  himself  say 
ing,  as  a  liveried  old  man  ushered  him  in  and  took  his 
coat.  "  Don't  you  remember  me?" 

"Yes,  sir!  Mr.  Emerson.  You  have  been  away 
for  a  long  time,  sir." 

"Is  Miss  Wayland  in?" 

"Yes,  sir;  she  is  expecting  you.     This  way,  please." 

Boyd  followed,  thankful  for  the  subdued  light  which 
might  conceal  his  agitation.  He  knew  where  they  were 
going:  she  had  always  awaited  him  in  the  library,  so 
it  seemed.  And  how  well  he  remembered  that  wonder 
ful  book  walled  room !  It  was  like  her  to  welcome  him 
on  the  spot  where  she  had  bade  him  good-bye  three 
years  ago. 

Hawkins  held  the  portieres  aside  and  Boyd  heard 
their  velvet  swish  at  his  back,  yet  for  the  briefest  in 
stant  he  did  not  see  her,  so  motionless  did  she  stand. 
Then  he  cried,  softly: 

"My  Lady!"  and  strode  forward. 

"  Boyd!  Boyd!"  she  answered  and  came  to  meet  him, 
yielding  herself  to  his  arms.  She  felt  his  heart  pound 
ing  against  hers  like  the  heart  of  a  runner  who  has 
spent  himself  at  the  tape,  felt  his  arms  quivering  as  if 
from  great  fatigue.  For  a  long  time  neither  spoke. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AND  IS  GRANTED  A  YEAR  OF  GRACE 

A  TO  so  all  your  privations  and  hardships  went  for 
nothing,"  said  Mildred  Wayland,  when  Boyd 
had  recounted  the  history  of  his  pilgrimage  into  the 
North. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied;  "  as  a  miner,  I  am  a  very  wretched 
failure." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  disapproval. 

"Don't  use  that  term!"  she  cried.  "There  is  no 
word  so  hateful  to  me  as  'failure' — I  suppose,  because 
father  has  never  failed  in  anything.  Let  -us  say  that 
your  success  has  been  delayed." 

"  Very  \vell.  That  suits  me  better,  also,  but  you  see 
I've  forgotten  how  to  choose  nice  words." 

They  were  seated  in  the  library,  where  for  two  hours 
they  had  remained  undisturbed,  Emerson  talking 
rapidly,  almost  incoherently,  as  if  this  were  a  sort  of 
confessional,  the  girl  hanging  eagerly  upon  his  every 
word,  following  his  narrative  with  breathless  interest. 
The  story  had  been  substantially  the  same  as  that 
which,  once  before,  he  had  related  to  Cherry  Malotte; 
but  now  the  facts  were  deeply,  intimately  colored  with 
all  the  young  man's  natural  enthusiasm  and  inmost 
personal  feeling.  To  his  listener  it  was  like  some 
wonderful,  far-off  romance,  having  to  do  with  strange 
people  whose  motives  she  could  scarcely  grasp  and 

114 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

pitched   amid   wild  scenes   that  she   could   not   fully 
picture. 

"And  you  did  all  that  for  me,"  she  mused,  after  a 
time. 

"It  was  the  only  way." 

"  I  wonder  if  any  other  man  I  know  would  take 
those  risks  just  for — me." 

"  Of  course.  Why,  the  risk,  I  mean  the  physical 
peril  and  hardship  and  discomfort,  don't  amount  to 
—that."  He  snapped  his  fingers.  "  It  was  only  the 
unending  desolation  that  hurt;  it  was  the  separation 
from  you  that  punished  me — the  thought  that  some 
luckier  fellow  might — 

"Nonsense!"  Mildred  was  really  indignant.  "I 
told  you  to  fix  your  own  time  and  I  promised  to  wait. 
Even  if  I  had  not — cared  for  you,  I  would  have  kept 
my  word.  That  is  a  Wayland  principle.  As  it  is,  it 
was — comparatively  easy." 

"Then  you  do  love  me,  my  Lady?"  He  leaned 
eagerly  toward  her. 

"  Do  you  need  to  ask  ?"  she  whispered  from  the  shelter 
of  his  arms.  "  It  is  the  same  old  fascination  of  our 
girl  and  boy  days.  Do  you  remember  how  completely 
I  lost  my  head  about  you?"  She  laughed  softly.  "  I 
used  to  think  you  wore  a  football  suit  better  than  any 
body  in  the  world!  Sometimes  I  suspect  that  it  is 
merely  that  same  girlish  hero-worship  and  can't  last. 
But  it  has  lasted — so  far.  Three  years  is  a  long  time 
for  a  girl  like  me  to  wait,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  know!     I  know!"  he  returned,  jealously.     "But  I 
have  lived  that  time  with  nothing  but  a  memory,  while 
you  have  had  other  things  to  occupy  you.     You  are 
flattered  and  courted  by  men,  scores  of  men — n 
"Oh!" 

"5 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Legions  of  men !  Oh,  I  know.  Haven't  I  devoured 
society  columns  by  the  yard?  The  papers  were  six 
months  old,  to  be  sure,  when  I  got  them,  but  every 
mention  of  you  was  like  a  knife  stab  to  me.  Jealousy 
drove  me  to  memorize  the  name  of  every  man  with 
whom  you  were  seen  in  public,  and  I  called  down  all 
sorts  of  curses  upon  their  heads.  I  used  to  torture 
my  lonely  soul  with  hideous  pictures  of  you — " 

"Hideous  pictures  of  me?"  The  girl  perked  her 
head  to  one  side  and  glanced  at  him  bewitchingly. 
"You're  very  flattering!" 

"Yes,  pictures  of  you  with  a  caravan  of  suitors  at 
your  heels." 

"You  foolish  boy!  Suitors  don't  come  in  caravans; 
they  come  in  cabs." 

"Well,  my  simile  isn't  far  wrong  in  other  respects," 
he  replied,  with  a  flash  of  her  spirit.  "But  anyhow  I 
pictured  you  surrounded  by  all  the  beautiful  things  of 
your  life  here,  forever  in  the  scent  of  flowers,  in  the 
lights  of  drawing-rooms,  in  the  soft  music  of  hidden 
instruments.  God!  how  I  tortured  myself!  You  were 
never  out  of  mind  for  an  hour.  My  days  were  given  to 
you,  and  I  used  to  pray  that  my  dreams  might  hold  noth 
ing  but  you.  You  have  been  my  fetish  from  the  first 
day  I  met  you,  and  my  worship  has  grown  blinder  every 
hour,  Mildred.  You  were  always  out  of  my  reach,  but 
I  have  kept  my  eyes  raised  toward  you  just  the  same, 
and  I  have  never  looked  aside,  never  faltered."  He 
paused  to  feast  his  eyes  upon  her,  and  then  in  a  half- 
whisper  finished,  "Oh,  my  Lady,  how  beautiful  you 
are!" 

And  indeed  she  was;  for  her  face,  ordinarily  so  im 
perious,  was  now  softly  alight;  her  eyes,  which  other 
men  found  cold,  were  kindled  with  a  rare  warmth  of 

116 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

understanding;  her  smile  was  almost  wistfully  sweet. 
To  her  lover  she  seemed  to  bend  beneath  the  burden 
of  her  brown  hair,  yet  her  slim  figure  had  the  strength 
and  poise  which  come  of  fine  physical  inheritance  and 
high  spirit.  Every  gesture,  every  unstudied  attitude, 
revealed  the  grace  of  the  well  born  woman. 

It  was  this  "air"  of  hers,  in  fact,  which  had  originally 
attracted  him.  He  recalled  how  excited  he  had  been 
in  that  far-away  time  when  he  had  first  learned  her 
identity — for  the  name  of  Wayland  was  spoken  sound- 
ingly  in  the  middle  West.  In  the  early  stages  of  their 
acquaintance  he  had  looked  upon  her  aloofness  as  an 
affectation,  but  a  close  intimacy  had  compelled  a 
recognition  of  it  as  something  wholly  natural ;  he  found 
her  as  truly  a  patrician  as  Wayne  Wayland,  her  father, 
could  wish.  The  old  man's  domain  was  greater  than 
that  of  many  princes,  and  his  power  more  absolute. 
His  only  daughter  he  spoiled  as  thoroughly  as  he  ruled 
his  part  of  the  financial  world,  and  wilful  Mildred, 
once  she  had  taken  an  interest  in  the  young  college 
man  so  evidently  ready  to  be  numbered  among  her 
lovers,  did  not  pause  half  way,  but  made  her  preference 
patent  to  all,  and  opened  to  him  a  realm  of  dazzling 
possibilities.  He  well  remembered  the  perplexities  of 
those  first  delirious  days  when  her  regard  was  beginning 
to  make  itself  apparent.  She  was  so  different,  so 
wonderfully  far  removed  from  all  he  knew,  that  he 
doubted  his  own  senses. 

His  friends,  indeed,  lost  no  opportunity  of  inform 
ing  him  that  he  was  a  tremendously  favored  young 
man,  but  this  phase  of  the  affair  had  caused  him  little 
thought,  simply  because  the  girl  herself  had  come  so 
swiftly  to  overshadow,  in  his  regard,  every  other  con 
sideration — even  her  own  wealth  and  position.  At  the 

117 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

same  time  he  could  not  but  be  aware  that  his  standing 
in  his  little  world  was  subtly  altered  as  soon  as  he 
became  known  as  the  favored  suitor  of  Wayne  Way- 
land's  daughter.  He  began  to  receive  favors  from 
comparative  strangers;  unexpected  social  privileges 
were  granted  him;  his  way  was  made  easier  in  a  hun 
dred  particulars.  From  every  quarter  delicately  grati 
fying  distinctions  came  to  him.  Without  his  volition 
he  found  that  he  had  risen  to  an  entirely  different 
position  from  that  which  he  had  formerly  occupied; 
the  mere  coupling  of  his  name  with  Mildred  Wayland's 
had  lifted  him  into  a  calcium  glare.  It  affected  him 
not  at  all,  he  only  knew  that  he  was  truly  enslaved  to 
the  girl,  that  he  idolized  her,  that  he  regarded  her  as 
something  priceless,  sacred.  She,  in  turn,  frankly  ca 
pitulated  to  him,  in  proud  disregard  of  what  her  world 
might  say,  as  complete  in  her  surrender  to  this  new 
lover  as  she  had  been  inaccessible  in  her  reserve  toward 
all  the  rest. 

And  when  he  had  graduated,  how  proud  of  her  he 
had  been!  How  little  he  had  realized  the  gulf  that 
separated  them,  and  how  quick  had  been  his  awakening! 

It  was  Wayne  Wayland  who  had  shown  him  his 
folly.  He  had  talked  to  the  young  engineer  kindly, 
if  firmly,  being  too  shrewd  an  old  diplomat  to  fan  the 
flame  of  a  headstrong  love  with  vigorous  opposition. 

"Mildred  is  a  rich  girl,"  the  old  financier  had  told 
Boyd,  "a  very  rich  girl;  one  of  the  richest  girls  in  this 
part  of  the  world ;  while  you,  my  boy — what  have  you 
to  offer?" 

"Nothing!  But  you  were  not  always  what  you  are 
now,"  Emerson  had  replied.  "Every  man  has  to 
make  a  start.  When  you  married,  you  were  as  poor 
as  I  am." 

118 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Granted!  But  I  married  a  poor  girl,  from  my 
own  station  in  life.  Fortunately  she  had  the  latent 
power  to  develop  with  me  as  I  grew;  so  that  we  kept 
even  and  I  never  outdistanced  her.  But  Mildred  is 
spoiled  to  begin  with.  I  spoiled  her  purposely,  to 
prevent  just  this  sort  of  thing.  She  is  bred  to  lux 
ury,  her  friends  are  rich,  and  she  doesn't  know  any 
other  kind  of  life.  Her  tastes  and  habits  and  in 
clinations  are  extravagant,  to  put  it  plainly — yes, 
worse  than  extravagant;  they  are  positively  scandalous. 
She  is  about  the  richest  girl  in  the  country,  and  by 
virtue  of  wealth  as  well  as  breeding  she  is  one  of  the 
American  aristocracy.  Oh !  people  may  say  what  they 
please,  but  we  have  an  aristocracy  all  the  same  which 
is  just  as  well  marked  and  just  as  exclusive  as  if  it 
rested  upon  birth  instead  of  bank  accounts." 

"  You  wouldn't  object  to  our  marriage  if  I  were  rich 
and  Mildred  were  poor,"  Emerson  had  said,  rather  cyn 
ically. 

"Perhaps  not.  A  poor  girl  can  marry  a  rich  man 
and  get  along  all  right  if  she  has  brains;  but  a  very 
rich  girl  can't  marry  a  very  poor  man  and  be  happy 
unless  she  is  peculiarly  constituted.  I  happen  to  know 
that  my  girl  isn't  so  constituted.  She  is  utterly  im 
possible  as  a  poor  man's  wife.  She  can't  do  anything: 
she  can't  economize,  she  can't  amuse  herself,  she  can't 
be  happy  without  the  things  she  is  accustomed  to;  it 
is  in  her  blood  and  training  and  disposition.  She 
would  try,  bless  you!  she  would  try  all  right — for  a 
while — but  I  know  her  better  than  she  knows  herself. 
You  see,  I  have  the  advantage  of  knowing  myself  and 
of  having  known  her  mother  before  her.  She  is  a 
hothouse  flower,  and  adversity  would  wither  her. 
Mind  you,  I  don't  say  that  her  husband  must  be  a 

9  119 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

millionaire,  but  he  will  need  a  running  start  on  the  road 
to  make  her  happy,  and — well,  the  fellow  who  gets 
my  girl  will  make  her  happy  or  I'll  make  him  damned 
miserable!"  The  old  fellow  had  squared  his  jaws 
belligerently  at  this  statement. 

"You  have  nothing  against  me — personally,  I 
mean  ? " 

"Nothing." 

"She  loves  me." 

"  She  seems  to.  But  both  of  you  are  young  and  may 
get  over  it  before  you  reach  the  last  hurdle." 

"Then  you  forbid  it?"  Boyd  had  queried,  his  own 
glance  challenging  that  of  her  father. 

"By  no  means.  I  neither  forbid  nor  consent.  I 
merely  ask  you  to  stand  still  and  use  your  eyes  for  a 
little  while.  You  have  intelligence.  Don't  be  hasty. 
I  am  going  to  tell  her  just  what  I  have  told  you,  and  I 
think  she  is  sensible  enough  to  realize  the  truth  of  my 
remarks.  No!  instead  of  forbidding  you  Mildred's 
society,  I  am  going  to  give  you  all  you  want  of  it.  I 
am  going  to  make  you  free  at  our  house.  I  am  going 
to  see  that  you  meet  her  friends  and  go  where  she  goes. 
I  want  you  to  do  the  things  that  she  does  and  see  how 
she  lives.  The  more  you  see  of  us,  the  better  it  will 
suit  me.  I  have  been  studying  you  for  some  time, 
Mr.  Emerson,  and  I  think  I  have  read  you  correctly. 
After  you  have  spent  a  few  months  with  us,  come  to 
me  again  and  we  will  talk  it  over.  I  may  say  yes 
by  that  time,  or  you  may  not  wish  me  to.  Perhaps 
Mildred  will  decide  for  both  of  us." 

"That  is  satisfactory  to  me." 

"Very  well!  We  dine  at  seven  to-night;  and  we 
shall  expect  you." 

That  Mr.  Wayland  had  made  no  mistake  in  his 
120 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

judgment,  Emerson  had  soon  been  forced  to  admit; 
for  the  more  he  saw  of  Mildred's  life,  the  more  plainly 
he  perceived  the  barriers  that  lay  between  them. 
Those  months  had  been  an  education  to  him.  He 
had  become  an  integral  part  of  Chicago's  richer  social 
world.  The  younger  set  had  accepted  him  readily 
enough  on  the  score  of  his  natural  good  parts,  while  the 
name  of  Wayne  Wayland  had  acted  like  magic  upon 
the  elders.  Yet  it  had  been  a  cruel  time  of  probation 
for  the  young  lover,  who  continually  felt  the  searching 
eyes  of  the  old  man  reading  him;  and  despite  the  fact 
that  Mildred  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her  preference 
for  him,  there  had  been  no  lack  of  other  suitors,  all  of 
whom  Boyd  hated  with  a  perfect  hate. 

They  had  never  discussed  the  matter,  yet  both  the 
lovers  had  been  conscious  that  the  old  man's  words 
were  pregnant  with  truth,  and  after  a  few  months, 
during  which  Emerson  had  made  little  progress  in  his 
profession,  Mildred  had  gone  to  her  father  and  frankly 
begged  his  aid.  But  he  had  remained  like  adamant. 

"I  have  been  pretty  lenient  so  far.  He  will  have 
to  make  his  own  way  without  my  help.  You  know 
he  isn't  my  candidate." 

Recognizing  the  despair  which  was  possessing  her 
lover,  and  jealous  for  her  own  happiness,  Mildred  had 
arranged  that  both  of  them,  together,  should  have  a 
talk  with  her  father.  The  result  had  been  the  same. 
Mr.  Wayland  listened  grimly,  then  said: 

"This  request  for  assistance  shows  that  both  of 
you  are  beginning  to  realize  the  wisdom  of  my  re 
marks  of  a  year  ago." 

"  I'm  not  asking  aid  from  you,"  Emerson  had  blazed 
forth.  "  I  can  take  care  of  myself  and  of  Mildred." 

"  Permit  me  to  show  you  that  you  can't.  Your  life 
121 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  training  have  not  fitted  you  for  the  position  of 
Mildred's  husband.  Have  you  any  idea  how  many 
millions  she  is  going  to  own?" 

"No,  and  I  don't  care  to  know." 

"  I  don't  care  to  tell  you  either,  but  the  Wayland 
fortune  will  carry  such  a  tremendous  responsibility 
with  it  that  my  successor  will  have  to  be  a  stronger 
man  than  I  am  to  hold  it  together.  I  merely  gathered 
it;  he  must  keep  it.  You  haven't  qualified  in  either 
respect  yet." 

Mildred  had  interrupted  petulantly.  "Oh,  this 
endless  chatter  of  money!  It  is  disgusting.  I  only 
wish  we  were  poor.  Instead  of  a  blessing,  our  wealth 
is  an  unmitigated  curse — a  terrible,  exhausting  burden. 
I  hear  of  nothing  else  from  morning  till  night.  It 
gives  us  no  pleasure,  nothing  but  care  and  worry  and 
— wrinkles.  I  can  do  without  horses  and  motors  and 
maids,  and  all  that.  I  want  to  live,  really  to  live." 
She  had  arisen  and  gone  over  to  Boyd,  laying  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  "  I  will  give  it  all  up.  Let  us  try 
to  be  happy  without  it." 

It  had  been  a  tense  moment  for  both  men.  Their 
eyes  had  met  defiantly,  but,  reading  in  the  father's 
face  the  contempt  that  waited  upon  an  unmanly 
decision,  Boyd's  pride  stood  up  stiffly. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  can't  let  you  do  that.  Not  yet, 
anyhow.  Mr.  Wayland  is  right,  in  a  way.  If  he  had 
not  been  so  decent  I  would  have  married  you  anyhow, 
but  I  am  indebted  to  him.  He  has  shown  me  a  lot 
more  of  your  life  than  I  knew  before,  and  he  has  made 
his  word  good.  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  wait,  however ; 
for  quite  a  while,  it  may  be.  I  am  going  to  take  a 
gambler's  chance." 

"What  is  it?" 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"A  gold  strike  has  been  made  in  Alaska — 

"Alaska!" 

"  Yes!  The  Klondike.  You  have  read  of  it  ?  I  am 
told  that  the  chances  there  are  like  those  in  the  days  of 
'49,  and  I  am  going." 

So  it  was  that  he  had  made  his  choice,  fixing  his  own 
time  for  returning,  and  so  it  was  that  Mildred  Wayland 
had  awaited  him. 

If  to-day,  after  three  years  of  deprivation,  she 
seemed  to  him  more  beautiful  than  ever — the  interval 
having  served  merely  to  enhance  her  charm  and 
strengthen  the  yearning  of  his  heart — she  seemed  in  the 
same  view  still  further  removed  from  his  sphere.  More 
reserved,  more  dignified,  in  the  reserve  of  developed 
womanhood,  her  cession  was  the  more  gracious  and 
wonderful. 

His  story  finished,  Boyd  went  on  to  tell  her  vaguely 
of  his  future  plans,  and  at  the  last  he  asked  her,  with 
something  less  than  an  accepted  lover's  confidence : 

"Will  you  wait  another  year?" 

She  laughed  lightly.  "  You  dear  boy,  I  am  not  up 
for  auction.  This  is  not  the  'third  and  last  call.' 
I  am  not  sure  I  could  induce  anybody  to  take  me,  even 
if  I  desired." 

"  I  read  the  rumor  of  your  engagement  in  a  back 
number  of  a  San  Francisco  paper.  Is  your  retinue  as 
large  as  ever?" 

She  smiled  indifferently.  "  It  alters  with  the  season, 
but  I  believe  the  general  average  is  about  the  same. 
You  know  most  of  them."  She  mentioned  a  number 
of  names,  counting  them  off  on  her  finger-tips.  "  Then, 
of  course,  there  are  the  old  standbys,  Mr.  Macklin, 
Tommy  Turner,  the  Lawton  boys — 

"And  Alton  Clyde!" 

123 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"To  be  sure;  little  Alton,  like  the  brook,  runs  on 
forever.  He  still  worships  you,  Boyd,  by  the  way." 

"And  there  are  others?" 

"A  few." 

"Who?" 

"  Nobody  you  know." 

"Any  one  in  particular?"  Boyd  demanded,  with  a 
lover's  insistence. 

Miss  Wayland's  hesitation  was  so  brief  as  almost  to 
escape  his  notice.  "  Nobody  who  counts.  Of  course, 
father  has  his  predilections  and  insists  upon  engineering 
my  affairs  in  the  same  way  he  would  float  a  railroad 
enterprise,  but  you  can  imagine  how  romantic  the 
result  is." 

"Who  is  the  favored  party?"  the  young  man  asked, 
darkly.  But  she  arose  to  push  back  the  heavy  draper 
ies  and  gaze  for  a  moment  out  into  the  deepening 
twilight.  When  she  answered,  it  was  in  a  tone  of 
ordinary  indifference. 

"  Really  it  isn't  worth  discussing.  I  shall  not  marry 
until  I  am  ready,  and  the  subject  bores  me."  An 
instant  later  she  turned  to  regard  him  with  direct 
eyes. 

"Do  you  remember  when  I  offered  to  give  it  all  up 
and  go  with  you,  Boyd?" 

"  I  have  never  forgotten  for  an  instant." 

"  You  refused  to  allow  it." 

"Certainly!  I  had  seen  too  much  of  your  life,  and 
my  pride  figured  a  bit,  also." 

"  Do  you  still  feel  the  same  way  ?"  Her  eyes  searched 
his  face  rather  anxiously. 

"I  do!  It  is  even  more  impossible  now  than  then. 
I  am  utterly  out  of  touch  with  this  environment.  My 
work  will  take  me  back  where  you  could  not  go — into 

124 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

a  land  you  would  dislike,  among  a  people  you  could 
not  understand.  No;  we  did  quite  the  sensible  thing." 

She  sighed  gratefully  and  settled  upon  the  window- 
seat,  her  back  to  the  light.  "  I  am  glad  you  feel  that 
way.  I — I — think  I  am  growing  more  sensible  too. 
I  have  begun  to  understand  how  practical  father  was, 
and  how  ridiculous  I  was.  Perhaps  I  am  not  so  im 
pulsive — you  see,  I  am  years  older  now — perhaps  I  am 
more  selfish.  I  don't  know  which  it  is  and — I  can't 
express  my  feelings,  but  I  have  had  sufficient  time  since 
you  went  away  to  think  and  to  look  into  my  own  soul. 
Really  I  have  become  quite  introspective.  Of  course, 
my  feeling  for  you  is  just  the  same  as  it  was,  dear,  but 
I — I  can't — "  She  waved  a  graceful  hand  to  indicate 
her  surroundings.  "Well,  this  is  my  world,  and  I  am 
a  part  of  it.  You  understand,  don't  you?  The 
thought  of  giving  it  up  makes  me  really  afraid.  I 
don't  like  rough  things."  She  shook  herself  and  gave 
voice  to  a  delicious,  bubbling  little  laugh.  "  I  am 
frightfully  spoiled."  Emerson  drew  her  to  him 
tenderly. 

"  My  darling,  I  understand  perfectly,  and  I  love  you 
too  well  to  take  you  away  from  it  all ;  but  you  will  wait 
for  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"Of  course,"  she  replied,  quickly.  "As  long  as  you 
wish." 

"But  I  am  going  to  have  you!"  he  cried,  insistently. 
"You  are  going  to  be  my  wife."  He  repeated  the 
words  softly,  reverently:  "My  wife." 

She  gazed  up  at  him  with  a  puzzled  little  frown. 
'•  What  bothers  me  is  that  you  understand  me  and  my 
life  so  well,  while  I  scarcely  understand  you  or  yours  at 
all.  That  seems  to  tell  me  that  I  am  unsuited  to  you  in 
some  way.  Why,  when  you  told  me  that  story  of  your 

125 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

hardships  and  all  that,  I  listened  as  if  it  were  a  play  or 
a  book,  but  really  it  didn't  mean  anything  to  me  or 
stir  me  as  it  should.  I  can't  understand  my  own  failure 
to  understand.  That  awful  country,  those  barbarous 
people,  the  suffering,  the  cold,  the  snow,  the  angry  sea; 
I  don't  grasp  what  they  mean.  I  was  never  cold,  or 
hungry,  or  exhausted.  I — well,  it  is  fascinating  to  hear 
about,  because  you  went  through  it,  but  why  you  did 
it,  how  you  felt" — -she  made  a  gesture  as  if  at  a  loss  for 
words.  "Do  you  see  what  I  am  trying  to  convey?" 

"Perfectly,"  he  answered,  releasing  her  with  a  little 
unadmitted  sense  of  disappointment  at  his  heart.  "  I 
suppose  it  is  only  natural." 

"  I  do  hope  you  succeed  this  time,"  she  continued. 
"  I  am  growing  deadly  tired  of  things.  Not  tired  of 
waiting  for  you,  but  I  am  getting  to  be  old;  I  am,  indeed. 
Why,  at  times  I  actually  have  an  inclination  to  do 
fancy-work — the  unfailing  symptom.  Do  you  realize 
that  I  am  twenty-five  years  old!" 

"Age  of  decrepitude!  And  more  glorious  than  any 
woman  in  the  world!"  he  cried. 

There  was  a  click  outside  the  library  door,  and  the 
room,  which  unnoticed  by  them  had  become  nearly 
dark,  was  suddenly  flooded  with  light.  The  portieres 
parted,  and  Wayne  Wayland  stood  in  the  opening. 

"Ah,  here  you  are,  my  boy!  Ha\vkins  told  me  you 
had  returned." 

He  advanced  to  shake  the  young  man's  hand,  his 
demeanor  gracious  and  hearty.  "  Welcome  home. 
You  have  been  having  quite  a  vacation,  haven't  you? 
Let's  see,  it's  t\vo  years,  isn't  it?" 

"Three  years!"  Emerson  replied. 

"Impossible!  Dear,  dear,  how  time  flies  when  one 
is  busy." 

126 


WAYNE     WAYLAND     STOOD      IN      THE     OPENING 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Boyd  has  been  telling  me  of  his  adventures,"  said 
Mildred.  "  He  is  going  to  dine  with  us." 

"Indeed."  Mr.  Wayland  displayed  no  great  degree 
of  enthusiasm.  "  And  have  you  returned,  like  Pizarro, 
laden  with  all  the  gold  of  the  Incas?  Or  did  Pizarro 
return  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  he  settled  somewhere  on 
the  Coast."  The  old  man  laughed  at  his  own  conceit. 

"  I  judge  Pizarro  was  a  better  miner  than  I,"  Boyd 
smiled.  "There  were  plenty  of  Esquimau  princes 
whom  I  might  have  held  for  ransom,  but  if  I  had  done 
so,  all  the  rest  of  the  tribe  would  have  come  to  board 
with  them." 

"Have  you  come  home  to  stay?" 

"No,  sir;  I  shall  return  in  a  few  weeks." 

Mr.  Wayland's  cordiality  seemed  to  increase  in  some 
subtle  manner. 

"Well,  I  am  sorry  you  didn't  make  a  fortune,  my 
boy.  But,  rich  or  poor,  your  friends  are  delighted  to 
see  you,  and  we  shall  certainly  keep  you  for  dinner. 
I  am  interested  in  that  Northwestern  country  myself, 
and  I  want  to  ask  some  questions  about  it." 


CHAPTER  X 

IN    WHICH    BIG    GEORGE    MEETS    HIS    ENEMY 

IT  was  well  on  toward  midnight  when  Emerson  reached 
his  hotel,  and  being  too  full  of  his  visit  with  Mildred 
to  sleep,  he  strolled  through  the  lobby  and  into  the 
Pompeian  Room.  The  theatre  crowds  had  not  dis 
persed,  and  the  place  was  a-glitter;  for  it  was  the  grand- 
opera  season.  The  room  was  so  well  filled  that  he  had 
difficulty  in  finding  a  seat,  and  he  made  his  way  slowly, 
meditating  gloomily  upon  the  fact  that  out  of  all  this 
concourse  in  which  he  had  once  figured  not  a  single 
familiar  face  greeted  him.  Finding  no  unoccupied 
table,  he  was  about  to  retreat  when  he  heard  his  name 
spoken  and  felt  a  vigorous  slap  upon  the  back. 

"  Boyd  Emerson!  By  Jove,  I'm  glad  to  see  you!" 
He  turned  to  face  an  anaemic  youth  whose  colorless, 
gas-bleached  face  was  wrinkled  into  an  expansive  grin. 

"Hello,  Alton!" 

They  shook  hands  like  old  friends,  while  Alton  Clyde 
continued  to  express  his  delight. 

"So  you've  been  roughing  it  out  in  Nebraska,  eh?" 

"Alaska." 

"So  it  was.  I  always  get  those  places  mixed. 
Come  over  and  have  a  drink.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
Funny  thing,  I  just  met  a  Klondiker  myself  this 
evening.  Great  chap,  too!  I  want  you  to  know  him; 
he's  immense.  Only  watch  out  he  don't  get  you  full. 

128 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

He's  an  awful  spender.  I'm  half  kippered  myself. 
His  name  is  Froelich,  but  he  isn't  a  Dutchman.  Ever 
meet  him  up  there?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"Come  on,  you'll  like  him." 

Clyde  led  his  companion  toward  a  table,  chattering 
as  they  went.  "  Y'  know,  I'm  democratic  myself,  and 
I'm  fond  of  these  rough  lellows.  I'd  like  to  go  out  to 
Nebraska — 

"Alaska." 

" —  and  punch  cows  and  shoot  a  pistol  and  yell. 
I'm  really  tremendously  rough.  Here  he  is!  Mr. 
Froelich,  my  old  friend  Mr.  Emerson.  We  played 
football  together — or,  at  least,  he  played;  I  was  too 
light." 

Mr.  Froelich  shoved  back  his  chair  and  turned,  expos 
ing  the  face  of  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser,  quite  expression 
less  save  for  the  left  eyelid,  which  drooped  meaningly. 

"'Froelich'!"  said  Boyd,  angrily;  "good  heavens, 
Fraser,  have  you  picked  another  ?  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  stick  to  '  Frobisher."1  Turning  to  Clyde,  he 
observed:  "This  man's  name  is  Fraser.  One  of  his 
peculiarities  is  a  dislike  of  proper  names.  He  has 
never  found  one  that  suited  him." 

"I  like  'Froelich'  pretty  well,"  observed  the  im 
perturbable  Fraser.  "  It  sounds  distanguay,  and — 

"Don't  believe  anything  he  tells  you,"  Boyd  broke 
in,  seating  himself.  "  He  is  the  most  circumstantial 
liar  in  the  Northwest,  and  if  you  don't  watch  him  every 
minute  he  will  sell  you  a  hydraulic  mine,  or  a  rubber 
plantation,  or  a  sponge  fishery.  Underneath  'his  ec 
centricities,  however,  he  is  really  a  pretty  decent  fellow, 
and  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  my  presence  here  to 
night." 

129 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Alton  Clyde  made  his  astonishment  evident  by  in 
quiring  incredulously  of  Fraser,  "  Then  that  scheme  of 
yours  to  establish  a  gas  plant  at  Nome  was  all — " 

"Certainly!"  Emerson  laughed.  "The  incandescent 
lamp  travels  about  as  fast  as  the  prospector.  Nome 
is  lighted  by  electricity,  and  has  been  for  years." 

"Is  it?"  demanded  Fraser,  with  an  assumption  of 
the  supremest  surprise. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

"H'm!  I'd  forgotten.  Just  the  same,  my  plan  was 
a  good  one.  Gas  is  cheaper."  He  reached  for  his  glass, 
at  which  Clyde's  eye  fell  upon  his  missing  fingers,  and 
the  young  clubman  exploded: 

"Well!  If  that's  the  kind  of  pill  you  are,  maybe 
you  didn't  lose  your  mit  in  the  Boer  War  either." 

Emerson  answered  for  the  adventurer:  "Hardly! 
He  got  blood-poisoning  from  a  hangnail." 

Clyde  began  to  laugh  uncontrollably.  "Really! 
That's  great!  Oh,  that's  lovely!  Here  I've  been 
gobbling  fairy  tales  like  a  black  bass  at  sunset.  He! 
he!  he!  I  must  introduce  Mr.  Froel — Mr.  Fra — Mr. 
What's-his-name  to  the  boys.  He!  he!  he!" 

It  was  evident  that  Fraser  was  not  accustomed  to 
this  sort  of  treatment;  his  injured  pride  took  refuge  in 
a  haughty  silence,  which  further  stirred  the  risibilities 
of  Clyde  until  that  young  man's  thin  shoulders  shook, 
and  he  doubled  up,  his  hollow  chest  touching  his  knees. 
He  pounded  the  tiles  with  his  cane,  stamped  his  patent- 
leather  boots,  and  wept  tears  of  joy. 

"What's  the  joke?"  demanded  the  rogue.  "Any 
body  would  think  /  was  the  sucker." 

"Where  is  George?"  questioned  Boyd,  to  change 
the  subject. 

"  In  his  trundle-bed,  I  suppose,"  said  Fraser,  stiffly. 
130 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Along  about  nine  o'clock  he  begins  to  yawn  like  a 
trained  seal.  That's  how  I  came  to  fall  in  with — this." 
He  indicated  the  giggling  Clyde.  "  I  didn't  have  any 
thing  better  to  do." 

"  Did  you  show  George  around,  as  I  asked?" 

"Sure!  After  that  fairy — farrier,  I  should  say — 
finished  his  front  feet,  I  took  him  out  and  let  him  look 
at  the  elevated  railroad.  Then  he  came  back  and 
hunted  up  the  janitor  of  the  building.  He  spent  the 
evening  in  the  basement  with  the  engineer.  Oh,  he's 
had  a  splendid  day!" 

"I  say,  Boyd,  have  you  got  another  one  like — like 
this?"  Clyde  asked,  nodding  at  Fraser,  who  snorted 
indignantly. 

"Not  exactly.  Bait  is  quite  the  antithesis  of  Mr. 
Fraser.  He  is  a  fisherman,  and  he  has  never  been 
East  before." 

"He's  learning  the  manicure  business,"  sniffed  the 
adventurer.  "He  has  his  nails  curried  every  day. 
Says  it  tickles." 

"Oh,  glory  be!"  ejaculated  the  clubman.  "I  must 
meet  him,  too.  Let  me  show  him  the  town,  will  you? 
I'll  foot  the  bills;  I'll  make  it  something  historic. 
Please  do!  I'm  bored  to  death." 

"We  can't  spare  the  time;  we  are  here  on  business," 
said  Emerson. 

"Business!"  Clyde  remarked.  "That  sounds  in 
teresting.  I  haven't  seen  anybody  for  years  who  was 
really  busy  at  anything  that  was  worth  being  busy  at. 
It  must  be  a  great  sensation  to  really  do  something." 

"Don't  you  do  anything?" 

"Oh  yes;  I'm  as  busy  as  a  one-legged  sword-dancer, 
but  I  don't  do  anything.  It's  the  same  old  thing:  leases 
to  sign,  rents  to  collect,  and  that  sort  of  rot.  My  agent 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

does  most  of  it,  however.  I  wish  I  were  like  you, 
Boyd;  you  always  were  a  lucky  chap."  Emerson 
smiled  rather  grimly  at  thought  of  the  earlier  part  of 
the  evening  and  of  his  present  fortune. 

"Oh,  I  mean  it!"  said  Clyde.  "Look  how  lucky 
you  were  at  the  university.  Everything  came  your 
way.  Even  M — "  He  checked  himself  and  jerked  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  North  Side.  "You  know! 
She's  never  been  able  to  see  any  of  us  fellows  with  a 
spy-glass  since  you  left,  and  I  have  proposed  regularly 
every  full  moon."  He  wagged  his  curly  head  solemnly 
and  sighed.  "Well,  there  is  only  one  man  I'd  rather 
see  get  her  than  you,  and  that's  me — or  I — whichever 
is  proper." 

"I'm  not  sure  it's  proper  for  either  of  us  to  get  her," 
smiled  Boyd. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you've  returned  anyhow;  for  there's 
an  added  starter." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"He's  some  primitive  Western  fallow  like  yourself! 
I  don't  know  his  name — never  met  him,  in  fact.  But 
while  we  Chicago  fellows  were  cantering  along  in  a 
bunch,  watching  each  other,  he  got  the  rail." 

"From  the  way  her  father  spoke  and  acted  I  judged 
he  had  somebody  in  sight."  Boyd's  eyes  were  keenly 
alight,  and  Clyde  continued. 

"We've  just  got  to  keep  her  in  Chicago,  and  you're 
the  one  to  do  it.  I  tell  you,  old  man,  she  has  missed 
you.  Yes,  sir,  she  has  missed  you  a  blamed  sight  more 
than  the  rest  of  us  have.  Oh,  you  don't  know  how 
lucky  you  are." 

"I  lucky!     H'm!     You  fellows  are  rich — " 

"Bah!  I'm  not.  I've  gone  through  most  of  what 
I  had.  All  that  is  left  are  the  rents;  they  keep  me 

132 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

going,  after  a  fashion.  Now  that  it  is  too  late,  I'm  be 
ginning  to  wake  up;  I'm  getting  tired  of  loafing.  I'd 
like  to  get  out  and  do  something,  but  I  can't;  I'm  too 
well  known  in  Chicago,  and  besides,  as  a  business  man 
I'm  certainly  a  nickel-plated  rotter." 

"I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  recoup,"  said  Boyd.  "I 
am  here  to  raise  some  money  on  a  good  proposition." 

The  younger  man  leaned  forward  eagerly.  "  If  you 
say  it's  good,  that's  all  I  want  to  know.  I'll  take  a 
chance.  I'm  in  for  anything  from  pitch-and-toss  to 
manslaughter." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  and  you  can  use  your  own 
judgment." 

"I  haven't  a  particle,"  Clyde  confessed.  "If  I  had, 
I  wouldn't  need  to  invest.  Go  ahead,  however;  I'm 
all  ears."  He  pulled  his  chair  closer  and  listened  in 
tently  while  the  other  outlined  the  plan,  his  weak  gray 
eyes  reflecting  the  old  hero-worship  of  his  college  days. 
To  him,  Boyd  Emerson  had  ever  represented  the  ulti 
mate  type  of  all  that  was  most  desirable,  and  time  had 
not  lessened  his  admiration. 

"  It  looks  as  if  there  might  be  a  jolly  rumpus,  doesn't 
it?"  he  questioned,  when  the  speaker  had  finished. 

"It  does." 

"Then  I've  got  to  see  it.  I'll  put  in  my  share  if 
you'll  let  me  go  along." 

"You  go!  Why,  you  wouldn't  like  that  sort  of 
thing,"  said  Emerson,  considerably  nonplussed. 

" Oh,  wouldn't  I  ?  I'd  eat  it!  It's  just  what  I  need. 
I'd  revel  in  that  out-door  life."  He  threw  back  his 
narrow  shoulders.  "  I'm  a  regular  scout  when  it  comes 
to  loughing  it.  Why,  I  camped  in  the  Thousand 
Islands  all  one  summer,  and  I've  been  deer-hunting 
in  the  Adirondacks.  We  didn't  get  any — they  were 

133 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

too  far  from  the  hotel;  but  I  know  all  about  moun 
tain  life." 

"This  is  totally  different,"  Boyd  objected;  but  Clyde 
ran  on,  his  enthusiasm  growing  as  he  tinted  the  mental 
picture  to  suit  himself. 

"I'm  a  splendid  fisherman,  too,  and  I've  plenty  of 
tackle." 

"We  shall  use  nets." 

"Don't  do  it!  It  isn't  sportsmanlike.  I'll  take  a 
book  of  flies  and  whip  that  stream  to  a  froth." 
Emerson  interrupted  him  to  explain  briefly  the  process 
of  salmon-catching,  but  the  young  man  was  not  to  be 
discouraged. 

"  You  give  me  something  to  do — something  where  I 
don't  have  to  lift  heavy  weights  or  carry  boxes — and 
watch  me  work!  I  tell  you,  it's  what  I've  been  looking 
for,  and  I  didn't  know  it;  I'll  get  as  husky  as  you  are 
and  all  sunburnt.  Tell  me  the  sort  of  furs  and  the 
kind  of  pistols  to  buy,  and  I'll  put  ten  thousand  dollars 
in  the  scheme.  That's  all  I  can  spare." 

"You  won't  need  either  furs  or  firearms,"  laughed 
Boyd.  "When  we  get  back  to  Kalvik  the  days  will 
be  long  and  hot,  and  the  whole  country  will  be  a  blaze 
of  wild  flowers." 

"That's  fine!  I  love  flowers.  If  I  can't  catch  fish 
for  the  cannery,  I'll  make  up  for  it  in  some  other  way." 

"Can  you  keep  books?" 

"No;  but  I  can  play  a  mandolin,"  Clyde  offered, 
optimistically.  "  I  guess  a  little  music  would  sound 
pretty  good  up  there  in  the  wilderness." 

"  Can  you  play  a  mandolin?"  inquired  "  Fingerless  " 
Fraser,  observing  the  young  fellow  with  grave  curiosity. 

"  Sure;  I'm  out  of  practice,  but — " 

"Take  him!"  said  Fraser,  turning  upon  Emerson. 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  He  can  set  on  the  front  porch  of  the  cannery  with 
wild  flowers  in  his  hair  and  play  La  Paloma.  It  will 
make  those  other  fish-houses  mad  with  jealousy.  Get 
a  window-box  and  a  hammock,  and  maybe  Willis  Marsh 
will  run  in  and  spend  his  evenings  with  you." 

"  Don't  josh!"  insisted  Clyde,  seriously.     "  I  want  to 

go." 

"  Me  josh  ?"     Eraser's  face  was  like  wood. 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  Emerson  said,  guardedly. 

Without  warning,  the  adventurer  burst  into  shrill 
laughter. 

"Are  you  laughing  at  me?"  angrily  demanded  the 
city  youth. 

Eraser  composed  his  features,  which  seemed  to  have 
suddenly  disrupted.  "Certainly  not!  I  just  thought 
of  something  that  happened  to  my  father  when  I  was 
a  little  child."  Again  he  began  to  shake,  at  which 
Clyde  regarded  him  narrowly;  but  his  merriment  was 
so  impersonal  as  to  allay  suspicion,  and  the  young 
fellow  went  on  with  undiminished  enthusiasm: 

"You  think  it  over,  and  in  the  mean  time  I'll  get  a 
bunch  of  the  fellows  together.  We'll  all  have  lunch  at 
the  University  Club  to-morrow,  and  you  can  tell  them 
about  the  affair." 

Eraser  abruptly  ended  his  laughter  as  Boyd's  heel 
came  heavily  in  contact  with  his  instep  under  the  table. 
Clyde  was  again  lost  in  an  exposition  of  his  fitness  as  a 
fisherman  when  Eraser  burst  out : 

"  Hello!  There's  George.  He's  walking  in  his  sleep, 
and  thinks  this  is  a  manicure  stable." 

Emerson  turned  to  behold  Bait's  huge  figure  all  but 
blocking  the  distant  door.  It  was  evident  that  he  had 
been  vainly  trying  to  attract  their  attention  for  some 
time,  but  lacked  the  courage  to  enter  the  crowded 

135 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

room,  for,  upon  catching  Boyd's  eye,  he  beckoned 
vigorously. 

"Call  him  in,"  said  Clyde,  quickly.  "I  want  to 
meet  him.  He  looks  just  my  sort."  And  accordingly 
Emerson  motioned  to  the  fisherman.  Seeing  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  Big  George  composed  himself  and 
ventured  timidly  across  the  portal,  steering  a  tortuous 
course  toward  his  friends;  but  in  these  unaccustomed 
waters  his  bulk  became  unmanageable  and  his  way  be 
set  with  perils.  Deeming  himself  in  danger  of  being 
run  down  by  a  waiter,  he  sheered  to  starboard,  and 
collided  with  a  table  at  which  there  was  a  theatre  party. 
Endeavoring  to  apologize,  he  backed  into  a  great  pot 
tery  vase,  which  rocked  at  the  impact  and  threatened 
to  topple  from  its  foundation. 

"  I'd  rather  take  an  ox- team  through  this  room  than 
him,"  said  Fraser.  "He'll  wreck  something,  sure." 

Conscious  of  the  attention  he  was  attracting  on  all 
sides,  Big  George  became  seized  with  an  excess  of 
awkwardness;  his  face  blazed,  and  the  perspiration 
started  from  his  forehead. 

"I  hope  the  head  waiter  doesn't  speak  to  him," 
Boyd  observed.  "  He  is  mad  enough  to  rend  him  limb 
from  limb."  But  the  words  were  barely  spoken  when 
they  saw  a  steward  hasten  toward  George  and  address 
him,  following  which  the  big  fellow's  voice  rumbled 
angrily : 

"No,  I  ain't  made  any  mistake!  I'm  a  boarder 
here,  and  you  get  out  of  my  way  or  I'll  step  on  you." 
He  strode  forward  threateningly,  at  which  the  waiter 
hopped  over  the  train  of  an  evening  dress  and  bowed 
obsequiously.  The  noise  of  laughter  and  many  voices 
ceased.  In  the  silence  George  pursued  his  way  re 
gardless  of  personal  injury  or  property  damage,  break- 

136 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

mg  trail,  as  it  were,  to  his  destination,  where  he  sank 
limply  into  a  chair  which  creaked  beneath  his  weight. 

"Gimme  a  lemonade,  quick;  I'm  all  het  up,"  he  or 
dered.  "  I  can't  get  no  footholt  on  these  fancy  floors, 
they're  so  dang  slick." 

After  a  half-dazed  acknowledgment  of  his  intro 
duction  to  Alton  Clyde,  he  continued:  "I've  been  try 
ing  to  flag  you  for  ten  minutes."  He  mopped  his  brow 
feebly. 

"What  is  wrong?" 

"Everything!  It's  too  noisy  for  me  in  this  hotel. 
I've  been  trying  to  sleep  for  three  hours,  but  this  band 
keeps  playing,  and  that  elevated  railroad  breaks  down 
every  few  minutes  right  under  my  window.  There's 
whistles  blowing,  bells  ringing,  and — can't  we  find  some 
quiet  road-house  where  I  can  get  an  hour's  rest  ?  Put 
me  in  a  boiler-shop  or  a  round-house,  where  I  can  go  to 
sleep." 

"The  hotels  are  all  alike,"  Boyd  answered.  "You 
will  soon  get  used  to  it." 

"Who,  me?  Never!  I  want  to  get  back  to  God's 
country." 

"Hurrah  for  you!"  ejaculated  Clyde.  "Same  here! 
And  I'm  going  with  you." 

"How's  that?"  questioned  George. 

"Mr.  Clyde  offers  to  put  ten  thousand  dollars  into 
the  deal  if  he  can  go  to  Kalvik  with  us  and  help  run 
the  cannery,"  explained  Emerson. 

George  looked  over  the  clubman  carefully  from  his 
curly  crown  to  his  slender,  high-heeled  shoes,  then 
smiled  broadly. 

"It's  up  to  Mr.  Emerson.  I'm  willing  if  he  is." 
Whereupon,  vastly  encouraged,  Clyde  proceeded  to 
expatiate  upon  his  own  surpassing  qualifications.  While 

137 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

he  was  speaking,  a  party  of  three  men  approached,  and 
seated  themselves  at  an  adjoining  table.  As  they  pull 
ed  out  their  chairs,  Big  George  chanced  to  glance  in 
their  direction;  then  he  put  down  his  lemonade  glass 
carefully. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Boyd  demanded,  in  a  low 
tone,  for  the  big  fellow's  face  had  suddenly  gone  livid, 
while  his  eyes  had  widened  like  those  of  an  enraged 
animal. 

"That's  him!"  George  growled.  "That's  the  dirty 
hound!" 

"Sit  still!"  commanded  Fraser;  for  the  fisherman 
had  shoved  back  from  the  table  and  was  rising,  his 
hands  working  hungrily,  the  cords  in  his  neck  stand 
ing  out  rigidly.  Seeing  the  murder-light  in  his  com 
panion's  eyes,  the  speaker  leaned  forward  and  thrust 
the  big  fellow  back  into  the  chair  from  which  he  had 
half  lifted  himself. 

"  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,"  he  cautioned. 

Clyde,  who  had  likewise  witnessed  the  giant's  re 
markable  metamorphosis,  now  inquired  its  meaning. 

"That's  him!"  repeated  George,  his  eyes  glaring 
redly.  "That's  Willis  Marsh." 

"Where?"  Emerson  whirled  curiously;  but  there 
was  no  need  for  George  to  point  out  his  enemy,  for 
one  of  the  strangers  stood  as  if  frozen,  with  his  hand 
upon  the  back  of  his  chair,  an  expression  of  the  ut 
most  astonishment  upon  his  face.  A  smile  was  dying 
from  his  lips. 

Boyd  beheld  a  plump,  thick- set  man  of  thirty-eight 
in  evening  dress.  There  was  nothing  distinctive  about 
him  except,  perhaps,  his  hair,  which  was  of  a  decided 
reddish  hue.  He  was  light  of  complexion;  his  mouth 
was  small  and  of  a  rather  womanish  appearance,  due 

138 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

to  the  full  red  lips.  He  was  well  groomed,  well  fed; 
in  all  ways  he  was  a  typical  city-bred  man.  He  might 
have  been  a  broker,  though  he  did  not  carry  the  air  of 
any  particular  profession. 

That  he  was,  at  all  events,  master  of  his  emotions  he 
soon  gave  evidence.  Raising  his  brows  in  recognition, 
he  nodded  pleasantly  to  Bait;  then,  as  if  on  second 
thought,  excused  himself  to  his  companions  and  stepped 
toward  the  other  group.  The  legs  of  George's  chair 
scraped  noisily  on  the  tiles  as  he  rose;  the  sound  cov 
ered  Eraser's  quick  admonition: 

"Take  it  easy,  pal;  let  him  talk." 

"  How  do  you  do,  George  ?  What  in  the  name  of 
goodness  are  you  doing  here?  I  hardly  recognized 
you."  Marsh's  voice  was  round  and  musical,  his  ac 
cent  Eastern.  With  an  assumption  of  heartiness,  he 
extended  a  white-gloved  hand,  which  the  big,  uncouth 
man  who  faced  him  refused  to  take.  The  other  three 
had  risen.  George  seemed  to  be  groping  for  a  retort. 
Finally  he  blurted  out,  hoarsely: 

"Don't  offer  me  your  hand.  It's  dirty!  It's  got 
blood  on  it!" 

"  Nonsense !"  Marsh  smiled.  "  Let's  be  friends  again , 
George.  Bygones  are  bygones.  I  came  over  to  make 
up  with  you  and  ask  about  affairs  at  Kalvik.  If  you 
are  here  on  business  and  I  can  help — " 

"You  dirty  rat!"  breathed  the  fisherman. 

"Very  well;  if  you  wish  to  be  obstinate — "  Willis 
Marsh  shrugged  his  shoulders  carelessly,  although  in 
his  voice  there  was  a  metallic  note.  "  I  have  nothing 
to  say."  He  turned  a  very  bright  and  very  curious 
pair  of  eyes  upon  George's  companions,  as  if  seeking 
from  them  some  hint  as  to  his  victim's  presence  there. 
It  was  but  a  momentary  flash  of  inquiry,  however,  and 

139 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

then  his  gaze,  passing  quickly  over  Clyde  and  Fraser, 
settled  upon  Emerson. 

"Mr.  Bait  and  I  had  a  business  misunderstanding," 
he  said,  smoothly,  "which  I  hoped  was  forgotten.  It 
didn't  amount  to  much — " 

At  this  Bait  uttered  a  choking  snarl  and  stepped 
forward,  only  to  meet  Boyd,  who  intercepted  him. 

"Behave  yourself!"  he  ordered.  "Don't  make 
a  scene,"  and  before  the  big  fellow  could  prevent  it 
he  had  linked  arms  with  him,  and  swung  him  around. 
The  movement  was  executed  so  naturally  that  none 
of  the  patrons  of  the  cafe  noticed  it,  except,  perhaps, 
as  a  preparation  for  departure.  Marsh  bowed  civilly 
and  returned  to  his  seat,  while  Boyd  sauntered  toward 
the  exit,  his  arm  which  controlled  George  tense  as  iron 
beneath  his  sleeve.  He  felt  the  fisherman's  great 
frame  quivering  against  him  and  heard  the  excited 
breath  halting  in  his  lungs;  but  possessed  with  the 
sole  idea  of  getting  him  away  without  disorder,  he 
smiled  back  at  Clyde  and  Fraser,  who  were  following, 
and  chatted  agreeably  with  his  prisoner  until  they  had 
reached  the  foyer.  Then  he  released  his  hold  and  said, 
quietly : 

"You'd  better  go  up  to  your  room  and  cool  off. 
You  came  near  spoiling  everything." 

"He  tried  to  shake  hands,"  George  mumbled,  "with 
me!  That  thieving  whelp  tried  to  shake — "  He 
trailed  off  into  an  unintelligible  jargon  of  curses  and 
threats  which  did  not  end  until  he  had  reached  the 
elevator.  Here  Alton  Clyde  clamored  for  enlighten 
ment  as  to  the  reason  for  this  eruption. 

"That  is  the  fellow  we  will  have  to  fight,"  Boyd 
explained.  "He  is  the  head  of  the  cannery  combina 
tion  at  Kalvik,  and  a  bitter  enemy  of  George's.  If  he 

140 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

suspects  our  motives  or  gets  wind  of  our  plans,  we're 

done  for." 

Clyde  spoke  more  earnestly  than  at  any  time  during 

the  evening.     "Well,  that  absolutely  settles  it  as  far 

as  I  am  concerned.     This  is  bound  to  end  in  a  row." 
"You  mean  you  don't  want  to  join  us?" 
"Don't  want  to!     Why,  I've  just  got  to,  that's  all. 

The  ten  thousand  is  yours,  but  if  you  don't  take  me 

along  I'll  stow  away." 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEREIN    BOYD    EMERSON    IS    TWICE    AMAZED 

NEARLY  a  month  had  elapsed  when  Emerson  at 
last  expressed  to  George  the  discouragement  that 
for  several  days  had  lain  silently  in  both  men's  minds. 

"It  looks  like  failure,  doesn't  it?" 

"Sure  does!     You've  played  your  string  out,  eh?" 

"Absolutely.  I've  done  everything  except  burglary, 
but  I  can't  raise  that  hundred  thousand  dollars.  From 
the  way  we  started  off  it  looked  easy,  but  times  are  hard 
and  I've  bled  my  friends  of  every  dollar  they  can  spare. 
In  fact,  some  of  them  have  put  in  more  than  they  can 
afford." 

"It's  an  awful  big  piece  of  money,"  Bait  admitted, 
with  a  sigh. 

"I  never  fully  realized  before  how  very  large,"  Boyd 
said.  "  And  yet,  without  that  amount  the  Seattle  bank 
won't  back  us  for  the  remainder." 

"Oh,  it's  no  use  to  tackle  the  business  on  a  small 
scale."  Big  George  pondered  for  a  moment.  "We 
can't  wait  much  longer.  We'd  ought  to  be  on  the 
Coast  now.  We're  shy  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, 
eh?" 

"Yes,  and  I  can't  see  any  possible  way  of  raising  it. 
I've  done  the  best  I  could,  and  so  has  Clyde,  but  it's  no 
use." 

The  strain  of  the  past  month  was  evident  in  Emer- 
142 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

son's  face,  which  was  worn  and  tired,  as  if  from  sleep 
less  nights.  Of  late  he  had  lapsed  again  into  that  de 
spondent  mood  which  Fraser  had  observed  in  Alaska, 
his  moments  of  depression  growing  more  frequent  as 
the  precious  days  slipped  past.  Every  waking  hour 
he  had  devoted  to  the  promotion  of  his  enterprise. 
He  had  laughed  at  rebuffs  and  refused  discouragement ; 
he  had  solicited  every  man  who  seemed  in  any  way 
likely  to  be  interested.  He  had  gone  from  office  to 
office,  his  hours  regulated  by  watch  and  note-book, 
always  retailing  the  same  facts,  always  convincingly 
lucid  and  calmly  enthusiastic.  But  a  scarcity  of 
money  seemed  prevalent.  Those  who  sought  invest 
ment  either  had  better  opportunities  or  refused  to 
finance  an  undertaking  so  far  from  home,  and  appar 
ently  so  hazardous. 

During  those  three  years  in  the  North,  Boyd  had 
worked  with  feverish  haste  and  suffered  many  dis 
appointments;  but  never  before  had  he  used  such  a 
vast  amount  of  nervous  force  as  in  this  short  month, 
never  had  fortune  seemed  so  maddeningly  stubborn. 
But  he  had  hung  on  with  bulldog  tenacity,  not  knowing 
how  to  give  up,  until  at  last  he  had  placed  his  stock 
to  the  extent  of  seventy-five  thousand  dollars,  only  to 
realize  that  he  had  exhausted  his  vital  force  as  well  as 
his  list  of  acquaintances.  In  public  he  maintained  a 
sanguine  front,  but  in  private  he  let  go,  and  only  his 
two  Alaskan  friends  had  sounded  the  depths  of  his  dis 
appointment. 

One  other,  to  be  sure,  had  some  inkling  of  what 
troubled  him,  yet  to  Mildred  he  had  never  explained 
the  precise  nature  of  his  difficulties.  She  did  not  even 
know  his  plans.  He  spent  many  evenings  with  her, 
and  she  would  have  given  him  more  of  her  society  had 

143 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

he  consented  to  go  out  with  her,  for  the  demands  upon 
her  time  were  numerous;  but  this  he  could  never  bring 
himself  to  do,  being  too  wearied  in  mind  and  body,  and 
wishing  to  spare  himself  any  additional  mental  disquiet. 

Neither  Mildred  nor  her  father  ever  spoke  of  that 
unknown  suitor  in  his  presence,  and  their  very  silence 
invested  the  mysterious  man  with  menacing  possibilities 
which  did  not  tend  to  soothe  Boyd's  troubled  mind.  In 
fact,  Mr.  Wayland,  despite  his  genial  manner,  inspired 
him  with  a  vague  sense  of  hostility,  and,  as  if  he  were 
not  sufficiently  distracted  by  all  this,  Eraser  and  George 
kept  him  in  a  constant  state  of  worry  from  other  causes. 
The  former  was  continually  involving  him  in  some 
wildly  impossible  enterprise  which  seemed  ever  in 
danger  of  police  interference.  He  could  not  get  rid 
of  the  fellow,  for  Fraser  calmly  included  him  in  all  his 
machinations,  dragging  him  in  willy-nilly,  until  in 
Boyd's  ears  there  sounded  the  distant  clank  of  chains 
and  the  echo  of  the  warden's  tread.  A  dozen  times 
he  had  exposed  the  rogue  and  established  his  own 
position,  only  to  find  himself  the  next  day  wallowing 
in  some  new  complication  more  difficult  than  that 
from  which  he  had  escaped.  Ordinarily  it  wrould  have 
been  laughable,  but  at  this  crisis  it  was  tragic, 

As  for  George,  he  had  been  very  quiet  since  the 
night  of  his  encounter  with  Marsh,  and  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  by  himself.  This  was  a  relief  to  Boyd, 
until  he  happened  several  times  to  meet  the  big  fellow 
in  strange  places  at  unexpected  hours,  surprising  in  his 
eyes  a  look  of  expectant  watchfulness,  the  meaning  of 
which  at  first  puzzled  him.  It  took  but  little  observa 
tion,  however,  to  learn  that  the  fisherman  spent  his 
days  in  hotel  lobbies,  always  walking  about  through 
the  crowd,  and  that  by  night  he  patrolled  the  theatre 

144 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

district,  slinking  about  as  if  to  avoid  observation. 
Emerson  finally  realized  with  a  shock  that  George 
was  in  search  of  his  enemy;  but  no  amount  of  argument 
could  alter  the  fellow's  mind,  and  he  continued  to  hunt 
with  the  silence  of  a  lone  wolf.  What  the  result  of 
his  meeting  Marsh  would  be  Boyd  hesitated  to  think, 
but  neither  George  nor  he  discovered  any  trace  of  that 
gentleman. 

These  various  cares,  added  to  the  consequences  of 
his  inability  to  finance  the  cannery  project,  had  re 
duced  Emerson  to  a  state  bordering  upon  collapse. 
Bait  had  entered  his  room  that  morning  for  his  daily 
report  of  progress,  and  after  his  partner's  confession  of 
failure  had  fetched  a  deep  sigh. 

"Well,  it's  tough,  after  all  we've  went  through," 
he  said.  Then,  after  a  pause,  "Cherry  will  be  broken 
hearted." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  her,"  confessed  the  other. 

"You  see,  it's  her  last  chance,  too." 

"  So  she  told  me.  I'm  sorry  I  brought  you  all  these 
thousands  of  miles  on  a  wild-goose  chase,  but — " 

"  I  don't  care  for  myself.  I'll  get  back  somehow 
and  live  in  the  brush,  like  I  used  to,  and  some  day  I'll 
get  my  chance.  But  she's  a  woman,  and  she  can't 
fight  Marsh  like  I  can." 

"Just  who  or  what  is  she  ?"  Boyd  inquired,  curiously, 
glad  of  anything  to  divert  his  thoughts  from  their 
present  channel. 

"  She's  just  a  big-hearted  girl,  and  the  only  person, 
red,  white,  or  yellow,  who  gave  me  a  kind  word  or  a 
bite  to  eat  till  you  came  along.  That's  all  I  know 
about  her.  I'd  have  gone  crazy  only  for  her."  The 
big  man  ground  his  teeth  as  the  memory  of  his  in 
juries  came  uppermost. 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Before  Boyd  could  follow  the  subject  further,  Alton 
Clyde  strolled  in  upon  them,  arrayed  immaculately, 
with  gloves,  tie,  spats,  and  a  derby  to  match,  a  striped 
waistcoast,  and  a  gold-headed  walking-stick. 

"Salutations,  fellow-fishermen!"  he  began.  "I  just 
ran  in  to  settle  the  details  of  our  trip.  I  want  my 
tailor  to  get  busy  on  my  wardrobe  to-morrow."  Boyd 
shook  his  head. 

"Ain't  going  to  be  no  wardrobe,"  said  Bait. 

"  Why  ?     Has  something  happened  to  scare  the  fish  ?" 

"  I  can't  raise  the  money,"  Emerson  confessed. 

"Still  shy  that  twenty-five  thou?"  questioned  the 
clubman. 

"Yes!     I'm  done." 

"  That's  a  shame !  I  had  some  ripping  clothes  plan 
ned — English  whip-cord — " 

"  That  stuff  won't  rip,"  George  declared.  "  But  over 
alls  is  plenty  good." 

Clyde  tapped  the  narrow  points  of  his  shoes  with  his 
walking-stick,  frowning  in  meditation.  "  I'm  all  in, 
and  so  are  the  rest  of  the  fellows.  By  Jove,  this  will 
be  a  disappointment  to  Mildred!  Have  you  told  her?" 

"  No.  She  doesn't  know  anything  about  the  plan, 
and  I  didn't  want  to  tell  her  until  I  had  the  money. 
Now  I  can't  go  to  her  and  acknowledge  another 
failure." 

"I'm  terribly  disappointed,"  said  Clyde.  There  was 
a  moment's  silence;  then  he  went  to  the  telephone 
and  called  the  hotel  office:  "  Get  me  a  cab  at  once — Mr. 
Clyde.  I'll  be  right  down." 

Turning  to  the  others,  he  remarked:  "  I'll  see  what  I 
can  do;  but  as  a  promoter,  I'm  a  joke.  However,  the 
trip  will  do  me  good,  and  I  am  hungry  for  the  fray; 
the  smell  of  battle  is  in  my  nostrils,  and  I  am  champing 

146 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

at  my  bit.  Woof!  Leave  it  to  me."  He  smote  the 
air  with  his  slender  cane,  and  made  for  the  door  with 
an  appearance  of  fierce  determination  upon  his  color 
less  face.  "  You'll  hear  from  me  in  the  morning.  So 
long!" 

His  martial  air  amused  the  two,  but  Boyd  soon  dis 
missed  him  from  his  mind  and  spent  that  evening 
in  such  moody  silence  that,  in  desperation,  Big  George 
forsook  him  and  sought  out  the  manicure  parlor. 
Fraser  was  busied  on  some  enterprise  of  his  own. 

The  thought  of  Alton  Clyde's  raising  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  where  he  had  failed  was  ridiculous  to 
Emerson.  He  was  utterly  astounded  when  that  ra 
diantly  attired  youth  strolled  into  his  room  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning  and  tossed  a  thick  roll  of  bills  upon 
the  table,  saying,  carelessly: 

"There  it  is;  count  it." 

"What?" 

"Twenty-five  one- thousand-dollar  notes.  Anyhow, 
I  think  there  are  twenty-five  of  them,  but  I'm  not 
sure.  I  counted  them  twice :  once  I  made  twenty-four 
and  the  next  time  twenty-six,  but  I  had  my  gloves  on; 
so  I  struck  an  average,  and  took  the  paying  teller's 
word  for  it." 

Emerson  leaped  to  his  feet,  staring  at  the  dandy 
as  if  not  comprehending  this  sudden  turn  of  fortune. 

"  Did  you  rustle  this  money  without  any  help  ?' 
he  demanded. 

"  Abso-blooming-lutely !" 

"Is  it  your  own?" 

"  Well,  hardly!  It  is  so  far  from  it  that  I  was  sorely 
tempted  to  spread  my  wings  and  soar  to  foreign  parts. 
It  wouldn't  have  taken  much  of  a  nudge  to  butt  me 
clear  over  into  Canada  this  morning," 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  get  it,  Al  ?" 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  I  got  it,  didn't 
I  ?"  He  slapped  his  trousers  leg  daintily  with  his  stick. 
"  You  can  issue  the  stock  in  my  name." 

Boyd  seized  the  little  fellow  and  whirled  him  around 
the  room,  laughing  gleefully,  lifted  in  one  moment  from 
the  pit  of  despair  to  the  height  of  optimism 

"Stop  it!  I'm  all  rumpled!"  gasped  Clyde,  finally, 
sinking  into  a  chair  "  When  I  get  rumpled  in  the 
morning  I  stay  rumpled  all  day.  Don't  you  touch  me !" 

"  Whose  money  is  this  ?  What  good  angel  took  pity 
on  us?" 

Clyde's  faded  eyes  dropped.  "  Well,  I  turned  a  trick, 
and  to  all  intents  and  purposes  it  is  mine.  There  it  is. 
I  didn't  steal  it,  and — you  don't  have  to  know  every 
thing,  do  you?  That  is  why  I  got  the  check  cashed." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  Boyd  apologized;  "I  didn't 
mean  to  pry  into  your  affairs,  and  it  is  none  of  my 
business,  anyhow.  I'm  glad  enough  to  get  the  money, 
no  matter  where  it  came  from.  I'd  forgive  you  if  you 
had  stolen  it."  He  began  to  dress  hurriedly.  "You 
are  the  fairy  prince  of  this  enterprise,  Alton,  and  you 
can  go  to  Kalvik  and  pick  flowers  or  play  the  mandolin 
or  do  anything  you  wish.  Now  for  a  telegram  to  the 
bank  at  Seattle.  We  leave  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  here,  now!     I  can't  get  my  wardrobe  ready." 

"Ward — nothing!  You  don't  need  any  clothes! 
You  can  get  all  that  stuff  in  Seattle." 

"  Must  have  wardrobe,"  firmly  maintained  Clyde. 
"No  can  do  without." 

"  George  and  I  will  be  in  Seattle  for  several  weeks, 
so  you  can  come  on  later." 

"  No,  sir!  I'm  going  to  trail  my  bet  with  yours.  I 
might  change  my  mind  if  I  hung  around  here  alone, 

148 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

I'll  make  my  tailor  work  all  night  to-night;  it  will 
do  him  good.  But  it  upsets  me  to  be  hurried;  it  upsets 
me  worse  than  being  rumpled  in  the  morning." 

That  was  a  busy  day  for  Boyd  Emerson,  but  he  was 
too  elated  to  notice  fatigue,  even  while  dressing  for 
the  Waylands'.  He  had  arranged  to  come  an  hour 
before  dinner,  that  Mildred  and  he  might  have  a  little 
time  to  themselves,  and  his  haste  to  acquaint  her  with 
the  news  of  his  success  brought  him  to  the  Lake  Shore 
house  ahead  of  time.  She  did  not  keep  him  waiting, 
however,  and  when  she  appeared,  gowned  for  dinner, 
he  fairly  swept  her  off  her  feet  with  his  abruptness. 

"It's  a  go,  my  Lady;   I  have  succeeded." 

"I  knew  it  by  your  smile.     I  am  so  glad!" 

"  Yes.  I  have  all  the  money  I  need,  and  I  am  off 
for  the  Coast  to-morrow." 

"Oh!"  She  drew  back  from  him.  "To-morrow! 
Why,  you  wretch!  You  seem  actually  glad  of  it!" 

"I  am." 

"  Confusion!  Of  all  the  discourteous  lovers — !"  She 
simulated  such  an  expression  of  injury  that  his  dancing 
eyes  became  grave.  "  My  poor  heart!" 

"Are  you  sorry?" 

"Sorry?  Indeed!  La,  la!"  She  gave  a  dainty 
French  shrug  of  her  bare  shoulders  and  tossed  her 
head.  "  I  summon  my  pride.  My  spirit  is  aroused. 
I  rejoice;  I  laugh;  I  sing!  Sorry?  Pooh!"  Then  she 
melted  with  an  impulsiveness  rare  in  her,  saying,  "  Tell 
me  all  about  it,  please;  tell  me  everything." 

He  held  her  slender  hand.  "This  morning  I  was 
bluer  than  a  tattooed  man,  but  to-night  I  am  in  the 
clouds,  for  I  have  overcome  the  greatest  obstacle  that 
stands  between  us.  It  is  only  a  question  of  months 
now  until  I  can  come  to  your  father  with  sufficient 

149 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

means  to  satisfy  him.  Of  course,  there  are  chances  of 
failure,  but  I  don't  admit  them.  I  have  such  a  super 
abundance  of  courage  now  that  I  can't  imagine  defeat." 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  hesitatingly,  "you  have 
never  told  me  anything  about  this  plan  of  yours? 
You  have  never  taken  me  into  your  confidence  in  the 
slightest  degree." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  care  to  know  the  details, 
dear.  This  is  so  entirely  a  business  matter.  It  is 
so  sordidly  commonplace,  and  you  are  so  very  far  re 
moved  from  sordid  things  that  I  didn't  think  you 
would  care  to  hear  of  it.  My  mind  won't  associate 
you  with  commercialism.  I  have  always  burned  in 
cense  to  you;  I  have  always  seen  you  in  shaded  light 
and  through  the  smoke  of  altar  fires,  so  to  speak." 

"  I  realize  that  I  don't  appreciate  the  things  that 
you  have  done,"  said  the  girl,  "but  I  should  like  to 
know  more  about  this  new  adventure." 

"I  warn  you,  it  is  not  romantic,"  he  smiled,  "al 
though  to  me  anything  which  brings  me  closer  to  you 
is  invested  with  the  very  essence  of  romance."  He 
told  her  briefly  of  his  enterprise  and  the  difficulties 
he  had  conquered.  "It  looks  like  plain  sailing  now," 
he  concluded.  "  I  will  have  to  work  hard,  but  that 
just  suits  me,  for  it  will  occupy  the  time  while  I  am 
away  from  you.  There  will  be  no  mail  or  communi 
cation  with  the  outside  world  after  we  sail,  except  at 
long  intervals.  But  I  am  sure  you  will  feel  the  mes 
sages  I  shall  send  you  every  hour." 

"And  so  you  are  going  to  put  fish  into  little  tin 
cans?"  said  Mildred. 

"Very  prosy,  isn't  it?" 

"  Of  course,  you  will  have  men  to  do  it.  You  won't 
do  that  sort  of  thing  yourself?" 

150 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Assuredly  not.  There  will  be  some  hundreds  of 
Chinese." 

"  Will  you  have  to  catch  the  fish?  Will  you  pull  on 
a  long  fish-line?  I  should  think  that  would  be  rather 
nice." 

"No,"  he  laughed. 

"  At  any  rate,  you  will  wear  oilskins  and  a  '  sou' 
wester,'  won't  you?" 

"  Yes,  just  like  the  pictures  you  see  on  bill-boards." 

She  meditated  for  an  instant.  "  Why  don't  you  build 
a  railroad  or  do  something  such  as  father  does?  He 
makes  a  great  deal  of  money  out  of  railroads." 

"  He  is  also  a  director  in  the  largest  packing  concern 
at  the  Stock  Yards,"  Boyd  reminded  her.  "This  is 
much  the  same  sort  of  thing." 

"To  be  sure!  Do  you  know,  he  has  become  greatly 
interested  in  your  country  of  late.  I  have  heard  him 
speak  of  Alaska  frequently.  In  fact,  I  think  that  is 
one  reason  why  he  has  been  so  nice  to  you;  he  wants 
to  learn  all  he  can  about  it." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  dear,  I  never  know  why  he  does  anything." 

"Tell  me,  does  he  still  legislate  in  favor  of  this 
mysterious  suitor  whose  identity  you  have  never  re 
vealed  to  me?" 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  girl.  "There  is  no  mysterious 
suitor,  and  father  does  not  legislate  for  or  against  any 
one.  He  isn't  that  sort." 

"And  yet  I  never  seem  to  meet  this  stranger." 

"Indeed!"  she  observed,  a  trifle  indifferently.     "It 

§is  your  own  fault.     You  never  go  out  any  more.    How 
ever,  you  won't  have  long  to  wait.     Father  telephoned 
that  he  is  to  dine  with  us." 
"To-night?" 

ii  151 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Yes." 

"But,  Mildred,  this  is  our  last  evening  together," 
said  Emerson,  seriously.  "Can't  we  have  it  alone?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  I  had  nothing  to  say  in  the 
matter.  It  is  some  business  affair." 

So  the  fellow  was  a  business  associate  of  the  magnate, 
thought  Boyd.  "Who  is  he?" 

"He  is  merely" — Mildred  paused  to  listen.  "Here 
they  are  now.  Please  don't  look  so  tragic,  Othello." 

Hearing  voices  outside  the  library,  the  young  man 
asked,  hurriedly:  "Give  me  some  time  alone  with  you, 
my  Lady.  I  must  leave  early." 

"We  will  come  in  here  while  they  are  smoking,"  she 
said. 

There  was  time  for  no  more,  for  Wayne  Way  land 
entered,  followed  by  another  gentleman,  at  the  first 
sight  of  whom  Emerson  started,  while  his  mind  raced 
off  into  a  dizzy  whirl  of  incredulity.  It  could  not  be! 
It  was  too  grotesque  —  too  ridiculous!  What  prank 
of  malicious  fate  was  this  ?  He  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
door  again,  to  see  if  by  any  chance  there  were  a  third 
visitor,  but  there  was  not,  and  he  was  forced  to  re 
spond  to  Mr.  Wayland's  greeting.  The  other  man 
had  meanwhile  stepped  directly  to  Mildred,  as  if  he 
had  eyes  for  no  one  else,  and  was  bowing  over  her 
hand  when  her  father  spoke. 

"Mr.  Emerson,  let  me  present  you  to  Mr.  Marsh. 
I  believe  you  have  never  happened  to  meet  here." 
Marsh  turned  as  if  reluctant  to  release  the  girl's  hand, 
and  not  until  his  own  was  outstretched  did  he  recog 
nize  the  other.  Even  then  he  betrayed  his  recognition 
only  by  a  slight  lift  of  the  eyebrows  and  an  intensifica 
tion  of  his  glance. 

The  two  mumbled  the  customary  salutations  while 
152 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

their  eyes  met.  At  their  first  encounter  Boyd  had 
considered  Marsh  rather  indistinct  in  type,  but  with 
a  lover's  jealousy  he  now  beheld  a  rival  endowed  with 
many  disquieting  attributes. 

"  You  two  will  get  along  famously,"  said  Mr.  Way- 
land.  "  Mr.  Marsh  is  acquainted  with  your  country, 
Boyd." 

"Ah!"  Marsh  exclaimed,  quickly.  "Are  you  an 
Alaskan,  Mr.  Emerson?" 

"  Indeed,  he  is  so  wedded  to  the  country  that  he  is 
going  back  to-morrow,"  Mildred  offered. 

Marsh's  first  look  of  challenge  now  changed  to  one  of 
the  liveliest  interest,  and  Boyd  imagined  the  fellow 
endeavoring  to  link  him,  through  the  affair  at  the 
restaurant,  with  the  presence  of  Big  George  in  Chicago. 
Although  the  full  significance  of  the  meeting  had  not 
struck  the  young  lover  yet,  upon  the  heels  of  his  first 
surprise  came  the  realization  that  this  man  was  to  be 
not  only  his  rival  in  love,  but  the  greatest  menace  to 
the  success  of  his  venture — that  venture  which  meant 
the  world  to  him. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  cautiously,  "I  am  a  typical 
Alaskan — disappointed,  but  not  discouraged." 

"What  business?" 

"Mining!" 

"Oh!"  indifferently.  Marsh  addressed  himself  to 
Mr.  Wayland:  "1  told  you  the  commercial  opportuni 
ties  in  that  country  were  far  greater  than  those  in  the 
mining  business.  All  miners  have  the  same  story." 
Sensing  the  slight  in  his  tone,  rather  than  in  his  words, 
Mildred  hastened  to  the  defence  of  her  fiance",  nearly 
causing  disaster  thereby. 

"Boyd  has  something  far  better  than  mining  now. 
He  was  telling  me  about  it  as — " 

153 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"You  interrupted  us,"  interjected  Emerson,  panic 
stricken.  "I  didn't  have  time  to  explain  the  nature 
of  my  enterprise." 

The  girl  was  about  to  put  in  a  disclaimer,  when  he 
flashed  a  look  at  her  which  she  could  not  help  but  heed. 
"I  am  very  stupid  about  such  things,"  she  offered, 
easily.  "I  would  not  have  understood  it,  I  am  sure." 
To  her  father,  she  continued,  leaving  what  she  felt  to 
be  dangerous  ground:  "I  didn't  look  for  you  so  early." 

"We  finished  sooner  than  I  expected,"  Mr.  Wayland 
answered,  "so  I  drove  Willis  to  his  hotel  and  waited 
for  him  to  dress.  I  was  afraid  he  might  disappoint  us 
if  I  let  him  out  of  my  sight.  I  couldn't  allow  that — 
not  to-night  of  all  nights,  eh  ? "  The  magnate  laughed 
knowingly  at  Marsh. 

"I  have  never  yet  disappointed  Miss  Wayland,  and 
I  never  shall,"  the  new-comer  replied,  eying  the  girl  in 
such  a  way  that  Boyd  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  choke  him 
until  his  smooth,  expressionless  face  matched  the  color 
of  his  evening  coat.  "I  can  imagine  your  daughter's 
feminine  guests  staying  away,  Mr.  Wayland,  but  her 
masculine  friends,  never!" 

"What  rot!"  thought  Emerson. 

"Well,  I  couldn't  take  any  chances  to-night,"  the 
father  reasserted,  "for  this  is  a  celebration.  I  will  tell 
Hawkins  to  open  a  bottle  of  that  Private  Cuvee,  '86." 

"What  machinations  have  you  precious  conspirators 
been  at  now?"  queried  Mildred. 

"My  dear,  I  have  effected  a  wonderful  deal  to-day," 
said  her  father.  "With  the  help  of  Mr.  Marsh,  I  closed 
the  last  details  of  a  consolidation  which  has  occupied 
me  for  many  months." 

"Another  trust,  I  suppose." 

"Certain  people  might  call  it  that,"  chuckled  the 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

old  man.  "Willis  was  the  inspiring  genius,  and  did 
most  of  the  work;  the  credit  is  his." 

"Not  at  all!  Not  at  all!"  disclaimed  the  modest 
Marsh.  "I  was  but  a  child  in  your  father's  hands, 
Miss  Wayland.  He  has  given  me  a  liberal  education 
in  finance." 

"  It  was  a  beautiful  affair,  eh  ?  "questioned  the  magnate. 

"Wonderful." 

"May  I  inquire  the  nature  of  this  merger?"  Emerson 
ventured,  amazed  at  this  disclosure  of  the  intimate 
relations  existing  between  the  two. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Wayne  Wayland.  "There  is 
no  longer  any  secret  about  it,  and  the  papers  will  be 
full  of  the  story  in  the  morning.  I  have  combined 
the  packing  industries  of  the  Pacific  Coast  under  the 
name  of  the  North  American  Packers'  Association." 

Boyd  felt  himself  growing  numb. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'packing  industries'?" 
asked  Mildred. 

"Canneries — salmon  fisheries!  We  own  sixty  per 
cent,  of  the  plants  of  the  entire  Coast,  including  Alaska. 
That's  wrhy  I've  been  so  keen  about  that  north  country, 
Boyd.  You  never  guessed  it,  eh?" 

"No,  sir,"  Boyd  stammered. 

"Well,  we  control  the  supply,  and  we  will  regulate 
the  market.  We  will  allow  only  what  competition 
we  desire.  Oh,  it  is  all  in  our  hands.  It  was  a  beauti 
ful  transaction,  and  one  of  the  largest  I  ever  effected." 

Was  he  dreaming?  Boyd  wondered.  His  mouth  was 
dry,  but  he  managed  to  inquire: 

"What  about  the  independent  canneries?" 

Marsh  laughed.  "There  is  no  sentiment  in  business! 
There  are  about  forty  per  cent,  too  many  plants  to  suit 
us.  I  believe  I  am  capable  of  attending  to  them." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Mr.  Marsh  is  the  General  Manager,"  Wayland  ex 
plained.  "  With  the  market  in  our  own  hands,  and  suf 
ficient  capital  to  operate  at  a  loss  for  a  year,  or  two 
years,  if  necessary,  I  don't  think  the  independent 
plants  will  cost  us  much." 

Emerson  found  his  sweetheart's  eyes  fixed  upon  him 
oddly.  She  turned  to  her  father  and  said:  "I  consider 
that  positively  criminal." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  dear!  It  sounds  cruel,  of  course,  but 
it  is  business,  and  it  is  being  done  every  day;  isn't  it, 
Boyd?" 

Boyd  made  no  answer,  but  Marsh  hastened  to  add: 

"  You  see,  Miss  Wayland,  business,  in  the  last  analysis, 
is  merely  a  survival  of  the  fittest;  only  the  strong  and 
merciless  can  hold  their  own." 

"Exactly,"  confirmed  her  father.  "One  can't  allow 
sentiment  to  affect  one.  It  isn't  business.  But  you 
don't  understand  such  things.  Now,  if  you  young 
people  will  excuse  me,  I  shall  remove  the  grime  of 
toil,  and  return  like  a  giant  refreshed."  He  chuckled 
to  himself  and  left  the  room,  highly  pleased  with  the 
events  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN    WHICH    MISS    WAYLAND    IS    OF   TWO    MINDS 

THAT  Willis  Marsh  still  retained  some  curiosity 
regarding  Emerson's  presence  at  the  Annex  on 
that  night  four  weeks  before,  and  that  the  young  man's 
non-committal  reply  to  his  inquiry  about  the  new 
enterprise  mentioned  by  Mildred  had  not  entirely 
satisfied  him,  was  proved  by  the  remark  which  he  ad 
dressed  to  the  girl  the  moment  her  father's  departure 
afforded  him  an  opportunity. 

"You  said  Mr.  Emerson's  new  proposition  was  better 
than  mining,  did  you  not?"  He  was  the  embodiment 
of  friendly  interest,  showing  just  the  proper  degree  of 
complaisant  expectancy.  "I  am  decidedly  curious  to 
know  what  undertaking  is  sufficiently  momentous  to 
draw  a  young  man  away  from  beauty's  side  up  into 
such  a  wilderness,  particularly  in  the  dead  of  winter." 

Miss  Way  land's  guarded  reply  gave  Emerson  a 
moment  in  which  to  collect  his  thoughts.  He  was  still 
too  much  confused  by  the  recent  disclosures  to  adjust 
himself  fully  to  the  situation.  The  one  idea  upper 
most  in  his  mind  was  to  enlighten  Marsh  as  little  as 
possible;  for  if  this  new  train  of  events  was  really  to 
prove  his  undoing,  as  already  he  half  believed,  he  would 
at  any  rate  save  himself  from  the  humiliation  of 
acknowledging  defeat.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should 
decide  to  go  ahead  and  wage  war  against  the  trust  as  an 

'57 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

independent  packer,  then  secrecy  for  the  present  was 
doubly  imperative. 

Once  Marsh  gained  an  inkling  that  he  and  Big  George 
were  equipping  themselves  to  go  back  to  Kalvik — to 
Kalvik,  Marsh's  own  stronghold,  of  all  places!  —  he 
could  and  would  thwart  them  without  doubt.  These 
thoughts  flashed  through  Boyd's  mind  with  bewilder 
ing  rapidity,  yet  he  managed  to  equal  the  other's  show 
of  polite  indifference  as  he  remarked: 

"  I  am  not  far  enough  along  with  my  plans  to  discuss 
them." 

"Perhaps  if  I  knew  their  nature  I  might — " 

Boyd  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  a  hydraulic  proposition 
would  not  interest  such  a  hard-headed  business  man 
as  you."  To  himself  he  added:  "Good  heavens!  I 
am  worse  than  Eraser  with  his  nebulous  schemes!" 

"Oh,  hydraulic  mining?  Well,  hardly!"  the  other 
replied.  "I  understood  Miss  Wayland  to  say  that  this 
was  something  better  than  a  mine." 

"Is  a  hydraulic  a  mine?"  inquired  Mildred;  "I 
thought  it  was  a  water-power  of  some  sort!" 

"Once  a  miner  always  a  miner,"  the  younger  man 
quoted,  lightly. 

As  if  with  a  shadow  of  doubt,  Marsh  next  inquired : 

"  Didn't  I  meet  you  the  other  evening  at  the  Annex  ?" 

Boyd  admitted  the  fact,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
exaggerates  his  interest  in  a  trifling  topic  for  the  sake 
of  conversation.  He  was  beginning  to  be  surprised 
at  his  own  powers  of  dissimulation. 

"And  you  were  with  George  Bait?" 

"Exactly.  I  picked  him  up  on  my  way  out  from 
Nome;  he  was  so  thoroughly  disgusted  with  Alaska 
that  I  helped  him  get  back  to  the  States." 

Marsh's  eyes  gleamed  at  this  welcome  intelligence, 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

for  certain  misgivings  had  preyed  upon  him  since  that 
night  of  the  encounter.  He  turned  to  the  girl  with  the 
explanation : 

"This  fellow  we  speak  of  is  a  queer,  unbalanced 
savage  who  nurses  an  insane  hatred  for  me.  I  em 
ployed  him  once,  but  had  to  discharge  him  for  in 
competence,  and  he  has  threatened  my  life  repeatedly. 
You  may  imagine  the  start  it  gave  me  to  stroll  into  a 
cafe*,  at  this  distance  from  Kalvik,  and  find  him  seated 
at  a  near-by  table." 

44  How  strange!"  Miss  Wayland  observed.  "What 
did  he  do?" 

"Mr.  Emerson  prevented  him  from  making  a  scene. 
Only  for  his  interference  I  might  have  been  forced  to — 
protect  myself." 

In  spite  of  himself  Boyd  could  not  but  wonder  if 
Marsh  were  really  the  sort  of  man  he  had  been  painted ; 
or  if,  as  might  appear  sufficiently  credible,  he  had  been 
maligned  through  Cherry's  prejudice  and  George  Bait's 
hatred.  To-night  he  seemed  the  most  kindly  and 
courteous  of  men. 

Under  Mildred's  skilful  direction  the  conversation 
had  drifted  into  other  channels  by  the  time  Mr.  Way- 
land  returned.  Now,  all  at  once,  Boyd  beheld  the 
magnate  in  a  new  guise.  Until  to-night  he  had  seen  in 
him  nothing  more  than  a  prospective  father-in-law, 
a  stubborn,  dominant  old  fellow  whose  half-contemp 
tuous  toleration,  unpleasant  enough  at  times,  never 
really  amounted  to  active  enmity.  Now,  however,  he 
recognized  in  Wayne  Wayland  a  commercial  foe,  and 
his  knowledge  of  the  man's  character  gave  sufficient 
assurance  that  he  might  expect  no  mercy  or  considera 
tion  from  him  one  moment  after  it  transpired  that  their 
financial  interests  were  in  conflict. 

159 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

So  far  the  two  had  never  seriously  clashed,  but 
sooner  or  later  the  capitalist  must  learn  the  truth; 
and  when  he  did,  when  that  iron-jawed,  iron-willed 
autocrat  once  discovered  that  this  youth  whom  he  had 
taken  into  his  home  with  so  little  thought  of  possible 
harm  had  actually  dared  to  oppose  him,  his  indigna 
tion  would  pass  all  bounds. 

And  then,  for  the  first  time,  Emerson  realized  the 
impropriety  of  his  own  present  position.  He  was  here 
under  false  pretences;  they  had  bared  to  him  secrets 
not  rightly  his,  with  which  he  might  arm  himself. 
When  this,  too,  became  known  to  the  financier,  he 
would  regard  him  not  only  as  a  presumptuous  enemy, 
but  as  a  traitor.  Boyd  knew  the  old  tyrant  too  well 
to  doubt  his  course  of  action;  thenceforth  there  would 
be  war  to  the  hilt. 

The  enterprise  which  an  hour  ago  had  seemed  so  cer 
tain  of  success,  the  enterprise  which  he  had  fathered 
at  such  cost  of  labor  and  suffering,  now  seemed  entirely 
hopeless.  The  futility  of  trying  to  oppose  these  men, 
equipped  as  they  were  with  limitless  means  and  ex 
perience,  struck  him  with  such  force  as  to  make  him 
almost  physically  faint  and  sick.  Even  had  his  can 
ning  plant  been  open  and  running,  he  knew  that  they 
would  never  take  him  in;  Wayne  Wayland's  con 
sistent  attitude  toward  him  showed  that  plainly  enough. 
And  with  nothing  more  tangible  to  offer  than  a  half- 
born  dream,  they  would  laugh  him  to  scorn.  Further 
more,  they  had  proclaimed  their  determination  to 
choke  all  rivalry. 

A  sort  of  panic  seized  Boyd.  If  his  present  scheme 
fell  through,  what  else  could  he  do?  Whither  could  he 
turn,  even  for  his  own  livelihood,  except  back  to  the 
hateful  isolation  of  a  miner's  life.  That  would  mean 

1 60 


THli    SILVER    HO  HDl: 

otlicr  years  as  black  as  those  just  ended.  There  had 
been  a  time  when  he  could  boldly  have  taken  the  bit 
in  his  teeth  and  forced  Mr.  Way  land  to  reckon  with 
him,  but  since  his  return  Mildred  herself  had  with 
drawn  her  consent  to  a  marriage  that  would  mean 
immediate  separation  from  the  life  that  she  loved. 
That  course,  therefore,  was  closed  to  him.  If  ever  he 
was  to  win  her,  he  must  play  this  game  of  desperate 
chances  to  the  end. 

The  announcement  of  dinner  interrupted  his  dis 
mayed  reflections,  and  he  walked  out  in  company  with 
Mr.  Wayland,  who  linked  arms  with  him  as  if  to  afford 
Willis  Marsh  every  advantage,  fleeting  though  it  might 
prove. 

"  He  is  a  wonderful  fellow,"  the  old  gentleman  ob 
served,  sotto  voce,  indicating  Marsh — "one  of  the  keen 
est  business  men  I  ever  met." 

"Yes?" 

"Indeed,  he  is.  He  is  a  money-maker,  too;  his 
associates  swear  by  him.  If  I  were  you,  my  boy,  I 
would  study  him;  he  is  a  good  man  to  imitate." 

At  the  dinner-table  the  talk  at  first  was  general,  and 
of  a  character  appropriate  for  the  hour,  but  Miss  Way- 
land,  oddly  enough,  seemed  bent  upon  leading  the 
discussion  back  into  its  former  course,  and  displayed 
such  an  unusual  thirst  for  information  regarding  the 
North  American  Packers'  Association  that  her  father 
was  moved  to  remark  upon  it. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  come  over  you,  Mildred  ?"  he 
said.  "  You  never  cared  to  hear  about  my  doings  before. ' ' 

"Please  don't  discourage  me,"  she  urged.  "I  am 
really  in  earnest;  I  should  like  to  know  all  about  this 
new  trust  of  yours.  Perhaps  my  little  universe  is 
growing  a  bit  tiresome  to  me." 

161 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Miss  Mildred  is  truly  your  daughter,"  Marsh  ob 
served,  admiringly.  "But  I  fear  the  matter  doesn't 
interest  Mr.  Emerson?" 

"Oh,  indeed  it  does,"  Mildred  smilingly  responded. 
"Doesn't  it,  Boyd?" 

He  flushed  uncomfortably  as  he  acquiesced. 

"Now,  please  tell  me  more  about  it,"  the  girl  went 
on.  "  You  know  you  are  both  full  of  the  thing,  and 
there  are  only  we  four  here,  so  let's  be  natural;  I  am 
dreadfully  tired  of  being  conventional." 

"Tut,  tut!"  exclaimed  her  father.  "That  comes  of 
association  with  these  untamed  Westerners."  Yet  he 
plainly  showed  that  he  was  flattered  by  her  unexpected 
enthusiasm  and  more  than  ready  to  humor  her. 

Both  men,  in  truth,  were  jubilant,  and  so  thoroughly 
in  tune  with  the  subject  which  had  obsessed  them  these 
past  months  that  it  took  little  urging  to  set  them  talk 
ing  in  harmony  with  the  girl's  wishes.  Readily  accept 
ing  the  cue  of  informality,  they  grew  communicative, 
and  told  of  the  troubles  they  had  encountered  in 
launching  the  gigantic  combination,  joking  over  the 
obstacles  that  had  threatened  to  wreck  it,  and  com 
plimenting  each  other  upon  their  persistence  and 
sagacity. 

Meanwhile,  Emerson's  discomfort  steadily  increased. 
He  wondered  if  this  were  a  deliberate  effort  on  Mil 
dred's  part,  or  if  she  really  had  any  idea  of  what  bear 
ing  it  all  had  upon  his  plans.  The  further  it  went, 
however,  the  more  clearly  he  perceived  the  formidable 
nature  of  the  new  barrier  between  himself  and  Mildred 
which  her  father  had  unwittingly  raised. 

"So  far  it  has  been  all  hard  work,"  Wayne  Way- 
land  at  length  announced,  "but  in  the  future  I  pro 
pose  to  derive  some  pleasure  from  this  affair.  I  am 

162 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

tired  out.  For  a  long  time  I  have  been  planning  a 
trip  somewhere,  and  now  I  think  I  shall  make  a  tour 
of  inspection  in  the  spring  and  visit  the  various  hold 
ings  of  the  North  American  Packers'  Association.  In 
that  way  I  can  combine  recreation  and  business." 

"But  you  detest  travel  as  much  as  I  do,"  said 
Mildred. 

"This  would  be  entirely  different  from  ordinary 
travel.  The  first  vice-president  has  his  yacht  on  the 
Pacific  Coast,  and  offers  her  to  the  board  of  directors 
for  a  summer's  cruise." 

"How  far  will  you  go?"  questioned  Boyd. 

"Clear  up  to  Mr.  Marsh's  station." 

"Kalvik?" 

"Yes;  that  is  the  plan,"  Marsh  chimed  in.  "The 
scenery  is  more  marvellous  than  that  of  Norway,  the 
weather  is  delightful.  Moreover,  The  Gratide  Dame  is 
the  best-equipped  yacht  on  the  Pacific,  so  the  board  of 
directors  can  take  their  families  with  them,  and  enjoy 
a  wonderful  outing  among  the  fjords  and  glaciers 
beneath  the  midnight  sun.  You  see,  I  am  selfish  in 
urging  it,  Miss  Way  land.  I  expect  you  to  join  the 
party." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would  like  it,  Mildred,"  the  magnate 
added. 

Boyd  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  Would  they 
come  to  Kalvik?  Would  they  all  assemble  there  in 
that  unmapped  nook?  And  suppose  they  should — 
had  he  the  courage  to  continue  his  mad  enterprise? 
It  was  all  so  unreal!  He  was  torn  between  the  desire 
to  have  Mildred  agree,  and  fear  of  the  influence  Marsh 
might  gain  during  such  a  trip.  But  Miss  Wayland 
evidently  had  an  eye  to  her  own  comfort,  for  she 
replied : 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"No,  indeed!  The  one  thing  I  abhor  above  land 
travel  is  a  sea  voyage;  I  am  a  wretehed  sailor." 

"But  this  trip  would  be  worth  while,"  urged  her 
father.  "  Why,  it  will  be  a  regular  voyage  of  discov 
ery  ;  I  am  as  excited  over  it  as  a  country  boy  on  circus 
day." 

Marsh  seconded  him  with  all  his  powers  of  persua 
sion,  but  the  girl,  greatly  to  Emerson's  surprise,  merely 
reaffirmed  her  determination. 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  I  should  enjoy  the  scenery,"  she 
observed,  with  a  glance  at  Boyd;  "but,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  don't  care  for  rough  things,  and  I  prefer  hearing 
about  canneries  to  visiting  them.  They  must  be  very 
smelly.  Above  all,  I  simply  refuse  to  be  seasick."  In 
her  eyes  was  a  half-defiant  look  which  Emerson  had 
never  seen  there  before. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  Marsh  acknowledged,  frankly.  "  You 
see,  there  are  no  women  in  our  country;  and  six  months 
without  a  word  or  a  smile  from  your  gentle  sex  makes 
a  man  ready  to  hate  himself  and  his  fellow-creatures." 

"Are  there  no  women  in  Alaska?"  questioned  the 
girl. 

"In  the  mining-camps,  yes;  but  we  fishermen  live 
lonely  lives." 

"  But  the  coy,  shrinking  Indian  maidens  ?  I  have 
read  about  them." 

"They  are  terrible  affairs,"  Marsh  declared.  "They 
are  flat  of  nose,  their  lips  are  pierced,  and  they  are  very 
—well,  dirty." 

"Not  always!"  Boyd  gave  voice  to  his  general 
annoyance  and  growing  dislike  for  Marsh  in  an  abrupt 
denial.  "  I  have  seen  some  very  attractive  squaws, 
particularly  breeds." 

"Where?"  demanded  the  other,  sceptically. 
164 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Well,  at  Kalvik,  for  instance." 

"Kalvik!"  ejaculated  Marsh. 

"Yes;  your  home.  You  must  know  Chakawana, 
the  girl  they  call  '  The  Snowbird '  ?" 

"No." 

"Come,  come!     She  knows  you  very  well." 

"Ah,  a  mystery!  He  is  concealing  something!" 
cried  Miss  Wayland. 

Marsh  directed  a  sharp  glance  at  Boyd  before  answer 
ing.  "I  presume  you  refer  to  Constan tine's  sister;  I 
was  speaking  generally — of  course,  there  are  exceptions. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  wasn't  exactly  right  when  I  said 
we  had  no  white  women  whatever  at  Kalvik.  Mr. 
Emerson  doubtless  has  met  Cherry  Malotte?" 

"I  have,"  acknowledged  Boyd.  "She  was  very 
kind  to  us." 

"  More  damning  disclosures,"  chuckled  Mr.  Wayland. 
"Pray,  who  is  she?" 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  know,"  Emerson  an 
swered. 

"Oh,  delightful!"  exclaimed  Mildred.  "First,  a 
beautiful  Indian  girl ;  now,  a  mysterious  white  woman ! 
Why,  Kalvik  is  decidedly  interesting." 

"There  is  nothing  mysterious  about  the  white 
woman,"  said  Marsh.  "  She  is  quite  typical — just  a 
plain  mining  camp  hanger-on  who  drifted  down  our 
way." 

"Not  at  all,"  Boyd  disclaimed,  angrily.  "Miss  Ma 
lotte  is  a  fine  woman;"  then,  at  Marsh's  short  laugh, 
"  and  her  conduct  bears  favorable  comparison  with  that 
of  the  other  white  people  at  Kalvik." 

Marsh  allowed  his  eyes  to  waver  at  this,  but  to  Mil 
dred  he  apologized.  "  She  is  not  the  sort  one  cares  to 
discuss." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  demanded  Cherry's  champion. 
"Do  you  know  anything  against  her  character?" 

"  I  know  she  is  a  disturbing  element  at  Kalvik,  and 
has  caused  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

It  was  Boyd's  turn  to  laugh.  "  But  surely  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  her  character." 

"My  dear  fellow" — Marsh  shrugged  his  shoulders 
apologetically — "if  I  had  dreamed  she  was  a  friend 
of  yours,  I  never  would  have  spoken." 

"  She  is  a  friend,"  Emerson  persisted  doggedly,  "and 
I  admire  her  because  she  is  a  girl  of  spirit.  If  she  had 
not  been  possessed  of  enough  courage  to  disregard  your 
instructions,  I  might  have  been  forced  to  eject  your 
watchman  and  take  possession  of  one  of  your  canneries." 

"We  can't  entertain  all  comers.  We  leave  that  to 
Miss  Malotte." 

"And  George  Bait,  eh?" 

"Dear!  dear!"  laughed  Miss  Wayland.  "I  feel  as 
if  I  were  at  a  meeting  of  the  Woman's  Guild." 

"  In  our  business  we  must  adhere  to  a  definite  policy," 
Marsh  explained  to  the  others.  "Sometimes  we  are 
misjudged  by  travellers  who  consider  us  heartless,  but 
we  can't  take  care  of  every  one." 

"  Not  even  your  sick  natives.  Well,  but  for  Miss 
Malotte  some  of  your  fishermen  would  have  starved 
this  winter,  and  you  might  have  been  short-handed 
next  year." 

"  We  give  them  work.  Why  should  we  support 
them?" 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  legal  reason,  and  ethics  don't 
count  for  much  up  there.  Nevertheless,  Cherry  Ma 
lotte  has  seen  to  it  that  the  children,  at  least,  haven't 
suffered.  She  saved  a  little  brother  of  this  Constantine 
you  mention." 

166 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Constantine  has  no  brother,"  Marsh  answered. 
"  I  happen  to  know,  because  he  worked  for  me." 

"  This  was  a  little  red-headed  youngster." 

"Ah!"  Marsh's  ejaculation  was  sharp.  "What  was 
the  matter  with  it?" 

"  Measles." 

"Did  it  get  well?" 

"  It  was  getting  along  all  right  when  I  left." 

The  other  fell  silent,  while  Miss  Way  land  inquired, 
curiously:  "What  is  this  mysterious  woman  like?" 

"She  is  young,  refined — thoroughly  nice  in  every 
way." 

"Good-looking  also,  I  dare  say?" 

"Very." 

She  was  about  to  pursue  her  inquiries  further,  but 
the  dinner  was  finished  and  Mr.  Wayland  had  asked 
for  his  favorite  cigars,  so  she  rose  and  Boyd  ac 
companied  her,  leaving  the  others  to  smoke.  But, 
strangely  enough,  Marsh  remained  in  such  a  state 
of  preoccupation,  even  after  their  departure,  that  Mr. 
Wayland's  attempts  at  conversation  elicited  only  the 
vaguest  and  shortest  of  answers. 

In  the  music -room  Mildred  turned  upon  Boyd. 
"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  this  woman  before?" 

"I  didn't  think  of  her." 

"And  yet  she  is  young,  beautiful,  refined,  lives  a 
romantic   sort   of  existence,  and   entertained  you — 
She  tossed  her  head. 

"Are  you  jealous?"  he  inquired,  with  a  smile. 

"  Of  such  a  person ?     Certainly  not." 

"  I  wish  you  were,"  he  confessed,  truthfully.  "  If 
you  would  only  get  really  jealous,  I  should  be  delighted ; 
I  should  begin  to  feel  a  little  sure  of  you." 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  struck  a  few  idle 

«  167 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

notes,  inquiring,  casually:  "  Kalvik  is  the  name  of  the 
place  where  you  are  going,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is." 

"I  suppose  you  will  see  a  great  deal  of  this — Cherry 
Malotte?" 

"Undoubtedly,  inasmuch  as  we  are  partners." 

"Partners!"  Mildred  ceased  playing  and  swung 
about.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"She  is  interested  in  this  enterprise;  the  cannery 
site  is  hers." 

"I  see!"  After  a  moment,  "Does  this  new  affair  of 
father's  have  any  particular  effect  on  your  plans?" 

"Yes  and  no,"  he  answered,  feeling  again  the  weight 
of  this  last  complication,  forgotten  for  the  mo 
ment. 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"Nothing;  only  for  the  present  please  don't  mention 
my  scheme  either  to  him  or  to  Mr.  Marsh.  I  am  a  bit 
uncertain  as  to  my  course.  You  see,  it  means  so  much 
to  me  that  I  can't  bear  to  give  it  up,  and  yet  it  may 
lead  to  great — unpleasantness." 

She  nodded,  comprehendingly. 

The  others  joined  them,  and  Boyd  made  his  adieus; 
but  in  leaving  he  bore  with  him  a  weight  of  doubt  and 
uneasiness  in  strange  contrast  with  the  buoyancy  he 
had  felt  upon  his  arrival. 

Willis  Marsh,  on  the  contrary,  lost  no  time  in 
emerging  from  his  taciturn  mood  upon  Boyd's  de 
parture,  and  seemed  filled  with  even  more  than  his 
accustomed  optimism.  Whatever  had  been  the  cause 
of  his  transitory  depression,  he  could  not  fail  to  re 
flect  that  his  fortunes  had  been  singularly  fair  of  late; 
and  now  that  the  other  man  was  out  of  the  way,  Miss 
Wayland,  for  the  first  time  in  his  acquaintance,  began 

168 


MILDRED      CEASED      PLAYING      AND     SWUNG      ABOUT        "WHAT       DO 
YOU      MEAN?" 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

to  display  a  lively  interest  in  his  affairs,  which  made 
his  satisfaction  complete.  She  questioned  him  closely 
regarding  his  work  and  habits  in  the  North,  letting 
down  her  reserve  to  such  an  unparalleled  extent  that 
when  Mr.  Wayland  at  last  excused  himself  and  retired 
to  the  library,  Marsh  felt  that  the  psychological  mo 
ment  had  arrived. 

"This  has  been  a  day  of  triumphs  for  me,"  he 
stated,  "and  I  am  anxious  to  crown  it  with  even  a 
greater  good-fortune." 

"Don't  be  greedy,"  the  girl  cautioned. 

"That  is  man's  nature." 

She  laughed  lightly.  "Having  used  my  poor, 
yielding  parent  for  your  own  needs,  you  now  wish  to 
employ  his  innocent  child  in  the  same  manner.  Is 
there  no  limit  to  your  ambition?" 

"There  is,  and  I  can  reach  it  with  your  help." 

"Please  don't  count  on  me;  I  am  the  most  dis 
appointing  of  creatures." 

But  he  disregarded  her  words.  "I  hope  not;  at  any 
rate,  I  must  know." 

"I  warn  you,"  she  said. 

"Nevertheless,  I  insist;  and  yet — I  don't  quite  know 
how  to  begin.  It  isn't  a  new  story  to  you  perhaps — 
what  I  am  trying  to  say — but  it  is  to  me,  I  can  assure 
you — and  it  means  everything  to  me.  I  don't  even 
have  to  tell  you  what  it  is — you  must  have  seen  it  in 
my  eyes.  I — I  have  never  cared  much  for  women — 
I  am  a  man's  man,  but — " 

"Please  don't,"  she  interrupted,  quietly.  But  he 
continued,  unheeding: 

"  You  must  know  that  I  love  you.  Every  man  must 
love  you,  but  no  man  could  love  you  more  than  I  do. 
I — I  could  make  a  lot  of  romantic  avowals,  Miss — 

169 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Mildred,  but  I  am  not  an  adept  at  such  things.     You 
can  make  me  very  happy  if — " 

"I  am  sorry — " 

"I  know.  What  I  have  said  is  trite,  but  my  whole 
heart  is  in  it.  Your  father  approves,  I  am  quite  sure, 
and  so  it  all  rests  with  you." 

For  the  first  time  the  girl  realized  the  deadly  earnest 
ness  of  the  man  and  felt  the  unusual  force  of  his 
personality,  which  made  it  seem  no  light  matter  to 
refuse  him.  He  took  his  disappointment  quietly, 
however,  and  raised  himself  immensely  in  her  es 
timation  by  his  graceful  acceptance  of  the  inevitable. 

"It  is  pretty  hard  on  a  fellow,"  he  smiled,  "but 
please  don't  let  it  make  any  difference  in  our  relations. 
I  hope  to  remain  a  welcome  visitor  and  to  see  as  much 
of  you  as  before." 

"More,  if  you  wish." 

"I  begin  to  understand  that  Mr.  Emerson  is  a  lucky 
chap."  He  still  smiled. 

She  ignored  his  meaning,  and  replied:  "Boyd  and  I 
have  been  the  closest  of  friends  for  many  years." 

"So  I  have  been  told,"  and  he  smiled  at  her  again, 
in  the  same  manner.  Somehow  the  smile  annoyed  her 
— it  seemed  to  savor  of  self-confidence.  When  he  bade 
her  good-bye  an  hour  later  he  was  still  smiling. 

Mr.  Way  land  was  busy  over  some  rare  first  edition, 
recently  received  from  his  English  collector,  when  she 
sought  him  out  in  the  library.  He  looked  up  to  inquire : 

"Has  Willis  gone?" 

"Yes.  He  sent  you  his  adieus  by  me."  A  moment 
later  she  added:  "He  asked  me  to  marry  him." 

"Of  course,"  nodded  the  magnate,  "they  all  do  that. 
What  did  you  say?" 

"What  I  always  say." 

170 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  H'm !"  He  tapped  his  eyeglasses  meditatively  upon 
the  bridge  of  his  high-arched  nose.  "You  might  do 
worse.  He  suits  me." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  he  could  hold  the  millions  together. 
In  fact,  he  is  the  first  one  I  have  seen  of  whose  ability 
in  that  line  I  am  quite  certain.  However —  She 
made  a  slight  gesture  of  dismissal. 

"I  hope  you  didn't  offend  him?" 

She  raised  her  brows. 

"  Forgive  me.  I  might  have  known — "  He  stared 
at  the  page  before  him  for  a  moment.  "You  have  a 
certain  finality  about  you  that  is  almost  masculine. 
They  never  return  to  the  charge — 

"Oh  yes,"  she  demurred.  "There  is  Alton  Clyde, 
for  instance — 

Mr.  Wayland  dismissed  Clyde  with  an  inarticulate 
grunt  of  contempt  which  measured  that  young  man's 
claim  to  consideration  more  comprehensively  than 
could  a  wealth  of  words. 

"I  would  think  it  over  if  I  were  you,"  he  advised. 
Then  he  pondered.  "If  you  would  only  change  your 
mind,  occasionally,  like  other  girls — " 

"I  have  changed  my  mind  to-night — since  Mr. 
Marsh  left." 

"Good!"  he  declared,  heartily. 

"  Yes.     I  have  decided  to  go  to  Kalvik  with  you." 

On  that  very  night,  in  a  little,  snow-smothered  cabin 
crouching  close  against  the  Kalvik  bluffs,  another 
girl  was  seated  at  a  piano.  Her  slim,  white  fingers 
had  strayed  upon  the  notes  of  a  song  which  Boyd 
Emerson  had  sung.  In  her  dream-filled  eyes  was  the 
picture  of  a  rough-garbed,  silent  man  at  her  shoulder, 
and  in  her  ears  was  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Clear  to 

171 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  last  melting  note  she  played  the  air,  and  then  a 
pitiful  sob  shook  her.  She  bowed  her  golden  head  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  arms,  for  a  memory  was  upon  her, 
a  forgotten  kiss  was  hot  upon  her  lips,  and  she  was 
very  lonely. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

IN    WHICH    CHERRY    MALOTTE    BECOMES    SUSPICIOUS 

A^  the  hotel  Emerson  found  Clyde  and  Eraser  in 
Bait's  room  awaiting  him.  They  were  noisy  and 
excited  at  the  success  of  the  enterprise  and  at  the  pros 
pect  of  immediate  action. 

Quoth  "Fingerless"  Eraser:  "It  has  certainly  lifted  a 
load  off  my  mind  to  put  this  deal  through." 

Emerson  was  forced  to  smile.  "Now  that  you  have 
succeeded,"  said  he,  "what  next?" 

"Back  to  the  Coast.     This  town  is  a  bum." 

"Are  you  going  west  with  us?" 

"Sure!     Why  not?     This  game  ain't  opened  yet." 

"How  long  are  we  to  be  favored  with  your  as 
sistance?" 

"  Hard  telling.  I  want  to  see  you  get  off  on  the  right 
foot;  I'd  feel  bad  if  you  fell  down." 

"Well,  of  all—" 

"Let  him  rave,"  advised  George.  "He  can't  sell 
us  nothing." 

"I  did  my  share,  anyhow,"  Alton  Clyde  declared, 
curling  up  comfortably  in  his  chair,  with  a  smile  of 
such  beatitude  that  Eraser  cried: 

"Now  purr!  Nice  kitty!  Seems  like  I  can  see  a 
canary  feather  sticking  to  your  mustache." 

"  It  is  my  d£but  in  business,"  Clyde  explained.  "  It's 
my  commercial  coming-out  party.  I  never  did  any- 

173 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

thing  useful  before  in  my  whole  life,  so,  naturally,  I'm 
all  swelled  up." 

"It  ain't  necessary  for  me  to  itemize  my  statement," 
Eraser  observed.  "A  moment's  consecutive  thought 
will  show  anybody  who's  capable  of  bearing  the  strain 
of  that  much  brain  effort  where  I  came  in."  Gazing 
upon  them  with  prophetic  eye,  he  announced:  "And 
mark  what  I  say,  gents:  I'll  be  even  a  bigger  help  to 
you  before  you  get  through.  You  do  the  rough  work ; 
I'll  be  there  with  the  bottle  of  oil  and  the  hand-polish. 
Yes,  sir!  When  the  time  comes  I'll  go  down  in  the 
little  bag  of  tricks  and  dig  up  anything  you  need,  from 
a  jig  dance  to  a  jimmy  and  a  bottle  of  soup." 

"I  know  what  you  call  'soup'!"  exclaimed  Alton, 
with  lively  interest.  "Did  you  ever  crack  a  safe? 
By  Jove,  that's  immense!" 

"I've  worked  in  banks,  considerable,"  "  Fingerless" 
Fraser  admitted,  with  admirable  caution.  "What  I 
mean  to  say  is,  I'm  a  general  handy  man,  and  I  may 
be  useful,  so  you  better  let  me  stick  around." 

Boyd  told  them  little  of  the  news  that  had  startled 
him  earlier  in  the  evening,  beyond  the  bare  fact  that 
Marsh  had  floated  a  packers'  trust,  and  that  secrecy, 
for  the  present,  was  now  doubly  necessary  to  the  suc 
cess  of  their  undertaking.  The  full  significance  of  the 
merger,  therefore,  did  not  strike  his  associates,  even 
when,  on  the  train,  the  next  day,  they  read  the  an 
nouncement  of  its  formation  in  the  newspapers.  Bait 
alone  took  notice  of  it,  and  fell  into  a  furious  rage  at 
his  enemy's  success. 

Alton  Clyde,  on  the  other  hand,  was  more  than  ever 
elated  over  his  share  in  a  conspiracy  threatened  by 
so  formidable  a  foe;  and  when  Emerson  constituted 
him  a  sort  of  secretary,  with  duties  mainly  of  send- 

174 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

ing  and  receiving  telegrams,  his  delight  was  beyond 
measure.  He  grew,  in  fact,  insufferably  conceited, 
and  his  overweening  sense  of  his  own  importance  be 
came  a  severe  trial  to  Fraser,  who  was  roused  to  his 
most  elaborate  efforts  of  sarcasm.  The  adventurer 
wasted  hours  in  a  search  for  fitting  similes  by  which  to 
measure  the  clubman's  general  and  comprehensive  in 
eptitude,  all  of  which  rebounded  from  his  victim's 
armor  of  complacency. 

No  sooner  were  they  fairly  under  way  for  the  West 
than  Emerson  began  the  definite  shaping  of  his  plans. 
He  and  George  carefully  went  over  the  many  details 
of  their  coming  work  and  sent  many  messages,  with  the 
result  that  outfitters  in  a  dozen  lines  were  awaiting 
them  when  they  arrived  in  Seattle.  Without  loss  of 
time  Boyd  installed  himself  and  his  friends  at  a  hotel, 
secured  a  competent  and  close-mouthed  stenographer, 
and  then  sought  out  the  banker  with  whom  he  had 
made  a  tentative  agreement  before  going  to  Chicago. 
Mr.  Hilliard  greeted  him  cordially. 

"I  see  you  have  carried  out  your  part  of  the  pro 
gramme,"  said  he;  "but  before  we  definitely  commit 
ourselves,  we  should  like  to  know  what  effect  this  new 
trust  is  going  to  have  on  the  canning  business." 

"You  mean  the  N.  A.  P.  A.?" 

"Precisely.  Our  Chicago  correspondent  can't  tell 
us  any  more  than  we  have  learned  from  the  press — 
namely,  that  a  combination  has  been  formed.  We  are 
naturally  somewhat  cautious  about  financing  a  com 
petitive  plant  until  we  know  what  policy  the  trust 
will  pursue." 

Here  was  exactly  the  complication  Boyd  had  feared; 
therefore,  it  was  with  some  trepidation  that  he  argued: 

"The  trust  is  in  business  for  the  money,  and  its  very 
175 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

formation  ought  to  be  conclusive  evidence  of  your  good 
judgment.  However,  you  have  backed  so  many  plants 
such  as  mine  that  you  know,  as  well  as  I  do,  the  big 
profits  to  be  taken." 

"That  isn't  the  point.  Ordinarily  we  would  not 
waver  an  instant,  but  the  Wayland-Marsh  outfit  is  apt 
to  upset  conditions.  If  we  only  knew — " 

"I  know!"  boldly  declared  Boyd.  "Mr.  Wayland 
outlined  his  policy  to  me  before  the  public  knew  any 
thing  about  the  trust." 

"Indeed?  Are  you  acquainted  with  Wayne  Way- 
land  ? "  asked  Mr.  Hilliard,  with  a  new  light  of  curiosity 
in  his  eyes. 

"  I  know  him  well." 

"Ah!  I  congratulate  you.  Perhaps  this  is — er, 
Wayland  money  behind  you?" 

"That  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  discuss,"  the  younger 
man  replied,  evasively.  "  However,  just  to  make  your 
loan  absolutely  sure,  I  have  taken  steps  to  sell  my 
season's  output  in  advance.  The  commission  men  will 
be  in  town  shortly,  and  I  shall  contract  for  the  entire 
catch  at  a  stipulated  price.  Is  that  satisfactory?" 

"Entirely  so,"  declared  Mr.  Hilliard,  heartily.  "Go 
ahead  and  order  your  machinery  and  supplies."  As 
Boyd  rose  to  go,  he  added,  "  By  the  way,  what  do  you 
know  about  the  mineral  possibilities  of  the  region  back 
of  Kalvik?" 

"  Not  much ;  the  country  is  new.  There  is  a — woman 
at  Kalvik  who  has  some  men  out  prospecting." 

"Cherry  Malotte?" 

"Do  you  know  her?"  asked  Boyd  with  astonish 
ment. 

"Very  well,  indeed.  I  have  had  some  correspond 
ence  with  her  quite  recently."  Then,  noting  Boyd's 

I76 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

evident  curiosity,  he  went  on:  "You  see,  I  have  made 
a  number  of  mining  investments  in  the  North — entirely 
on  my  own  account,"  he  hastened  to  explain.  "Of 
course,  the  bank  could  not  do  such  a  thing.  My  opera 
tions  have  turned  out  so  well  that  I  keep  several  men 
just  to  follow  new  strikes." 

"Has  Miss  Malotte  made  a  strike?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  she  has  uncovered  some  promis 
ing  copper  prospects." 

"H'm!  That  is  news  to  me.  It  is  rather  a  small 
country,  after  all,  isn't  it?"  He  would  have  liked  to 
ask  the  banker  certain  further  questions,  but  resisted 
the  temptation,  and  shortly  after  plunged  into  his  work 
so  vigorously  that  the  subject  faded  wholly  from  his 
mind. 

Now  it  was  that  George  Bait  made  his  importance 
felt.  In  the  days  which  followed  he  and  Boyd  toiled 
early  and  late,  for  a  thousand  things  needed  doing  at 
once.  Promptness  was,  above  all  things,  the  essence 
of  this  enterprise,  and  the  lumber  merchants,  coal 
dealers,  machinery  salesmen,  and  ship  chandlers  with 
whom  they  dealt  vowed  they  never  had  met  men  who 
reached  their  decisions  so  quickly  and  labored  not  only 
with  such  consuming  haste,  but  with  such  unerring 
certainty.  There  was  no  haggling  over  prices,  no  loss 
of  time  in  seeking  competitive  bids ;  and  because  George 
always  knew  precisely  what  he  wanted,  their  task  of 
selection  became  comparatively  easy.  With  every  de 
tail  of  the  business  he  was  familiar,  from  long  experi 
ence.  There  was  no  piece  of  machinery  that  he  did 
not  know  better  than  its  makers.  There  was  never 
any  hesitancy  as  between  rival  types  or  loading  down 
with  superfluous  gear.  His  main  concern  was  for  dates 
of  delivery. 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Three  weeks  passed  quickly  in  strenuous  effort,  and 
then  one  morning  the  partners  awoke  to  the  realization 
that  there  was  little  more  for  them  to  do.  Orders  were 
in,  shipments  had  started.  They  had  well-nigh  com 
pleted  the  charter  of  a  ship,  and  a  sailing  date  had  been 
set.  There  were  numerous  details  yet  to  be  arranged, 
but  the  enterprise  was  in  motion,  and  what  remained 
was  simple.  Despite  their  desperate  hurry  they  had 
made  no  mistakes,  and  for  this  the  credit  lay  largely 
with  Big  George. 

Through  it  all  Clyde  had  lent  them  enthusiastic  if 
feeble  assistance;  and  now  that  the  strain  was  off,  he 
gave  fitting  expression  to  his  delight  by  getting  drunk. 
Being  temperamental  to  a  degree,  he  craved  com 
pany;  and,  knowing  full  well  the  opposition  he  would 
encounter  from  his  friends,  he  annexed  a  bibulous 
following  of  loafers  whose  time  hung  heavy  and  who 
were  at  all  times  eager  to  applaud  a  loose  tongue  so  long 
as  it  was  accompanied  by  a  loose  purse.  Toward  mid 
night  "Fingerlss"  Fraser,  cruising  in  a  nocturnal  search 
for  adventure  and  profit,  found  him  in  a  semi-maudlin 
state,  descanting  vaporously  to  his  train;  and,  upon 
catching  mention  of  the  Kalvik  fisheries,  snatched  him 
homeward  and  put  him  to  bed,  after  which  he  locked 
him  into  his  room,  threw  the  key  over  the  transom,  and 
stood  guard  outside  until  assured  that  he  slept. 

At  an  early  hour  the  adventurer  was  peremptorily 
roused,  to  find  Emerson  hammering  at  his  door  in  a 
fine  fury. 

"What  is  this?"  demanded  Boyd,  through  white 
lips,  thrusting  a  morning  paper  before  Eraser's  sleepy 
eyes. 

"It's  a  newspaper,"  yawned  the  other — "a  regular 
newspaper." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Where  did  this  story  come  from  ? "  With  menacing 
finger  Boyd  indicated  a  front  column,  headed: 

NEW    ENEMY    OF   THE   SALMON    TRUST! 
FIRST  GUN  FIRED  IN  BATTLE  FOR  FISHERIES  ! 

N.  A.  P.  A.  PROMISED    BITTER    FIGHT    FOR    SUPREMACY   OF 
ALASKAN  WATERS  ! 

"I  don't  know." 

"You  don't  know?" 

"No;  I  never  read  anything  but  the  'Past  Perform 
ances'  and  the  funny  page.  What  does  it  say?" 

"It  is  the  whole  story  of  our  enterprise,  but  ridic 
ulously  garbled  and  exaggerated.  It  says  I  have 
headed  a  new  canning  company  to  buck  the  trust. 
It  tells  about  George's  feud  with  Marsh,  and  says  we 
have  both  been  secretly  preparing  to  down  him. 
Good  Lord !  It's  liable  to  queer  us  with  the  bank  and 
upset  the  whole  deal." 

"I  didn't  give  it  out." 

"  It  is  all  done  in  your  particularly  picturesque  style," 
declared  Emerson,  angrily.  "Alton  swears  he  knows 
nothing  about  it,  so  you  must  have  done  it.  It  is  too 
nearly  correct  to  have  come  from  a  stranger." 

"Well?"  inquired  Fraser,  quietly. 

"The  harm  is  done,  but  I  want  to  know  who  is  to 
blame."  When  the  other  made  no  answer  except  to 
stare  at  him  curiously,  he  flamed  up,  "Why  don't  you 
confess?" 

For  the  first  time  during  their  acquaintance,  "  Finger- 
less  ' '  Fraser  seemed  at  a  loss  for  words ;  but  whether  for 
shame  or  some  other  motive,  his  companion  was  un 
able  to  tell.  His  nature  was  so  warped  that  his  emo- 

179 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

tions  expressed  themselves  in  ways  not  always  easy  to 
follow,  and  now  he  merely  remarked,  with  apparent 
sullenness : 

"I'm  certainly  a  hot  favorite  with  you."  He  clam 
bered  stiffly  back  into  bed  and  turned  his  defiant  face 
to  the  wall,  nor  would  he  meet  his  accuser's  eyes  or 
open  his  lips,  even  when  Boyd  flung  out  of  the  room, 
convinced  that  he  was  the  culprit. 

All  that  day  Emerson  waited  fearfully  for  some 
word  from  Milliard,  but  night  came  without  it;  and 
when  several  days  in  succession  had  passed  without  a 
sign  from  the  banker,  he  breathed  more  easily.  He 
had  already  begun  to  assure  himself  that,  after  all,  the 
exposure  would  have  no  effect,  when  one  evening  the 
call  he  dreaded  came.  A  telephone  message  sum 
moned  him  to  the  bank  at  eleven  o'clock  the  following 
morning. 

"That  means  trouble,"  he  grimly  told  George. 

"Maybe  not,"  the  big  fisherman  replied.  "If 
Hilliard  took  any  stock  in  the  story,  it  seems  like  he'd 
have  jumped  you  the  next  day." 

"Our  machinery  is  ordered.  You  realize  what  it 
will  mean  if  he  backs  water  now?" 

"Sure!     We'll  have  to  go  to  some  other  bank." 

"Humph!  I'll  wring  Eraser's  neck,"  muttered 
Emerson.  "We  have  troubles  enough  without  any 
new  ones." 

It  was  with  no  little  anxiety  that  he  asked  for  the 
banker  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  was  shown  into  an 
anteroom,  with  the  announcement: 

"Mr.  Hilliard  is  busy;  he  wishes  you  to  wait." 

Inside  the  glass  partition  Boyd  heard  a  woman's 
voice  and  Hilliard's  laughter.  He  took  some  comfort 
in  the  thought  that  the  banker  was  in  a  good-humor,  at 

180 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

least;  but,  being  too  nervous  to  sit  still,  he  stood  at  the 
window,  gazing  with  vacant  eyes  at  the  busy  street 
crowds.  Facing  him,  across  the  way,  was  a  bulletin- 
board  in  front  of  a  newspaper  office;  and,  after  a  time, 
he  noted  idly  among  its  various  items  of  information 
the  announcement  that  the  mail  steamer  Queen  had 
arrived  at  midnight  from  Skagway.  He  wondered  why 
Cherry  had  not  written.  Surely  she  must  be  anxious 
to  know  his  progress.  He  should  have  advised  her  of 
his  whereabouts. 

The  door  to  Hilliard's  office  opened,  and  he  heard 
the  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress;  then  his  own  name 
spoken — "Come  in,  Mr.  Emerson." 

His  attention  centred  on  the  approaching  interview, 
he  did  not  glance  toward  the  departing  visitor  until 
she  stopped  suddenly  at  the  outer  door,  and  came 
straight  toward  him  with  outstretched  hands. 

"Boyd!" 

He  checked  himself,  and  turned  to  face  Cherry  Mai  otte. 

"  Why,  Cherry,"  he  ejaculated,  "  what  in  the  world — 
He  took  her  two  hands  in  his,  and  she  laughed  up  into 
his  face.     "In  the  name   of   Heaven,  where  did  you 
come  from?" 

"I  arrived  last  night  on  the  Queen''  she  said.  "Oh, 
I'm  glad  to  see  you!" 

"But  what  brings  you  to  the  States?  I  thought 
you  were  in  Kal — " 

"Sh-h!"  She  laid  a  finger  on  her  lips,  with  a  glance 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  door  to  the  inner  office.  "  I'll 
tell  you  about  it  later." 

"Mr.  Hilliard  will  see  you  now,  sir,"  the  attendant 
announced  to  Emerson. 

"I  must  talk  to  you  right  away!"  Boyd  exclaimed, 
hurriedly.  "I  won't  be  long.  Can  you  wait?" 

181 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Certainly ;  I'll  wait  right  here.     Only  hurry,  hurry !" 

The  pleasure  of  seeing  her  was  so  genuine  that  he 
squeezed  her  hands  heartily,  and  entered  Milliard's 
sanctum  with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  It  was  gone,  however, 
when  he  reappeared  a  half-hour  later,  and  in  its  place 
an  expression  which  caused  her  to  inquire,  quickly, 
"What  is  the  matter?  Is  something  wrong?" 

He  nodded,  but  it  was  not  until  they  had  reached 
the  outer  office  that  he  said:  "Yes,  something  is  de 
cidedly  wrong."  Then,  in  answer  to  her  further  ques 
tion:  "Wait  a  while;  I'm  too  angry  to  talk.  I'll  have 
to  tell  you  all  about  it  before  you'll  understand."  He 
began  to  mutter  harshly  under  his  breath:  "Come 
along.  We'll  have  lunch,  and  I'll  explain.  First,  how 
ever,  tell  me  why  you  came  out  at  this  season." 

"  I  have  a  big  mining  deal  on  with  Mr.  Hilliard.  He 
sent  for  me,  and  I  came.  Oh,  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin!  But  you  remember  when  you  were  in  Kalvik 
I  told  you  that  I  had  several  men  out  prospecting?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  last  summer,  long  before  you  came  through, 
one  of  them  located  a  ledge  of  copper." 

"You  never  told  me." 

"  There  wasn't  anything  to  tell  at  that  time — I  hadn't 
received  any  assay  reports,  and  I  didn't  know  whether 
the  thing  was  worth  telling;  but  shortly  after  you  left 
the  returns  came  in,  and  they  showed  remarkable 
values.  Now  here  is  the  wonderful  part  of  the  story. 
Unknown  to  me,  my  man  had  sent  out  other  samples 
and  a  letter  to  a  friend  of  his  here  in  Seattle.  That 
man  had  assays  made  on  his  own  account,  and  came 
to  Mr.  Hilliard  with  the  result.  The  very  next  boat 
brought  him  and  Hilliard's  expert  to  Katmai.  They 
came  over  with  the  mail-carrier.  We  had  opened  up 

182 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  ore  body  somewhat  in  the  mean  time,  and  it  didn't 
take  those  men  long  to  see  what  we  had.  They  were 
back  at  my  place  in  no  time  with  a  proposition.  When 
I  refused  to  tie  up  the  ground,  they  made  me  come 
out  with  them — foxy  Mr.  Milliard  had  foreseen  what 
would  happen,  and  instructed  them  to  bring  me  to  him 
if  they  had  to  kidnap  me.  Well,  I  was  a  willing  victim, 
and  here  I  am,  prepared  to  deal  with  Mr.  Banker,  pro 
vided  we  can  reach  an  agreement.  What  do  you  think 
of  me  as  a  business  woman?" 

Boyd  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm.  "  I  think  you  are 
fine  in  every  way,  and  I  hope  you  take  all  of  his  money 
away  from  him.  I  can't  get  any." 

"  It  will  take  a  lot  of  capital  and  time  to  develop  the 
mine,  and  I  am  fighting  now  for  control — he  is  a  tight- 
fisted  old  fellow." 

"  I  should  say  he  is,"  remarked  Emerson.  "  He  has 
just  thrown  a  bomb  into  our  camp  that  makes  my 
teeth  rattle.  He  promised  to  back  me  for  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  and  this  morning  went  back  on  his 
word  and  lay  down,  absolutely." 

"Begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  me  everything," 
commanded  the  girl.  "  I'm  dying  to  know  what  you 
have  been  doing.  Now,  right  from  the  start,  mind  you." 

They  had  reached  Emerson's  hotel,  and,  escorting 
her  to  the  luncheon-room,  he  proceeded  to  trace  his 
progress  from  the  day  he  had  bade  her  farewell  in  the 
snows  of  Kalvik.  They  had  finished  their  meal  before 
his  narrative  came  to  a  close. 

"To-day  Hilliard  called  me  in  and  coolly  informed 
me  that  his  bank  could  not  make  the  loan  he  had  prom 
ised  me,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  had  relied  on 
his  assurances  and  ordered  my  supplies,  which  are  now 
being  shipped." 

13  183 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Did  he  offer  any  reason  for  his  withdrawal?" 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  he  gave  a  reason,  but  he  beclouded 
it  with  so  many  words  that  it  was  merely  a  fog  by  the 
time  he  got  through.  All  I  could  distinguish  in  the 
general  obscurity  was  that  he  would  not  produce.  He 
said  something  about  the  bank  being  overloaded  and 
the  board  refusing  its  consent.  It's  remarkable  what 
a  barricade  a  banker  can  build  out  of  one  board." 

"And  yet,  as  I  understand  it,  you  have  sold  your 
output  in  advance,  at  a  fixed  price." 

"Correct." 

"It  is  very  strange!  The  bank  would  be  perfectly 
safe." 

"  He  merely  bulkheaded  himself  in  with  a  lot  of 
smooth  language,  and  when  I  tried  to  argue  myself 
over  I  just  slid  off.  The  moment  I  stepped  into  his 
office  I  felt  the  temperature  drop.  Something  new 
has  come  up ;  what  it  is,  I  don't  know.  Anyhow,  he 
froze  me  out." 

"  We  must  raise  that  money  somewhere  or  we  are 
ruined,"  Cherry  observed,  with  decision. 

"Well,  rather!"  Boyd  agreed,  with  a  desperate 
grimace. 

The  girl  laughed.  "  Mr.  Hilliard  and  I  merely  tried 
each  other's  mettle  this  morning.  I  am  to  return  at 
four." 

"Let's  meet  later  and  dress  each  other's  wounds," 
he  suggested.  Cherry's  presence  had  heartened  him 
wonderfully,  and  the  sight  of  her  brightly  animated 
face  across  the  table  inspired  him  with  a  kind  of  joy 
ous  courage,  the  like  of  which  he  had  scarcely  felt 
since  their  former  meeting.  In  her  company  his 
worries  had  almost  disappeared,  laughter  had  become 
a  living  thing,  and  youth  a  blessing. 

184 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"I'll  agree  to  anything,"  she  answered;  then,  be 
coming  suddenly  earnest,  she  spoke  with  shining  eyes: 
41  Mr.  Milliard  is  going  to  open  up  this  copper,  and  it  is 
going  to  make  me  rich — rich!  I  can't  tell  you  what 
that  means  to  me — you  wouldn't  understand.  I  can 
leave  that  whole  North  Country  behind  me,  and  all 
that  it  signifies.  I  can  be  what  I  want  to  be — what  I 
really  am." 

Boyd  saw  the  great  yearning  in  her  eyes,  saw  that 
she  was  fairly  breathless  with  the  intensity  of  her  hope. 
He  reached  forth  and,  taking  her  tightly  clasped  hands 
in  his,  said,  simply: 

"  If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way  it  will  be  my  greatest 
pleasure."  Her  glance  dropped  before  his  straight 
gaze,  and  she  answered: 

"  You  are  a  good  man.  I  am  glad  to  have  you  for  a 
friend.  But  you  will  pardon  my  selfishness,  won't 
you?  I  didn't  mean  to  put  forward  my  own  affairs 
when  yours  are  going  so  badly." 

"They  went  very  well,"  he  declared,  "until  I  tried 
to  climb  this — glacier." 

"Did  that  newspaper  story  frighten  Mr.  Hilliard?" 

"  I  couldn't  make  out  whether  it  did  or  not." 

"Let's  see!  It  was  nearly  a  week  ago  that  it  ap 
peared." 

"Five  days,  to  be  exact." 

"  It  takes  three  days  to  come  from  Chicago,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Hasn't  it  struck  you  as  strange  that  Hilliard  should 
wait  until  you  had  sewed  yourself  up  in  a  web  of  con 
tracts  and  obligations  before  advising  you  of  the  bad 
news?" 

"  If  you  mean  that  this  is  the  doing  of  that  Chicago 

185 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

outfit,  why  did  they  wait  so  long?  If  the  Associated 
Press  sent  that  item  to  Chicago,  or  if  they  were  ad 
vised  from  here,  why  didn't  they  wire  back?  It  all 
could  have  been  effected  by  telegraph  in  no  time." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  possible  to  do  such  a  thing  by  wire 
or  by  mail,  and,  besides,  Willis  Marsh  doesn't  work  that 
way.  If  that  despatch  was  printed  in  Chicago,  and  if 
he  saw  it,  I  predict  trouble  for  you  in  raising  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  Seattle." 

"You  are  not  a  bit  reassuring.  However,  I  shall 
soon  determine."  He  arose.  "I'll  call  for  you  at 
seven,  and  I'll  wager  right  now  that  your  fears  are 
groundless.  Prepare  to  see  me  return  with  a  ring 
through  the  nose  of  our  giant." 

"At  seven,  sharp!"  she  agreed.  "Meanwhile  I  shall 
delight  myself  with  a  shopping  expedition.  I'm  a  per 
fect  sight." 

At  seven  she  descended  from  her  room  in  answer  to 
his  call,  to  find  him  pacing  the  hotel  parlor,  his  jaw 
set  stubbornly. 

"What  luck?"  she  demanded. 

"  You  spoke  with  the  tongue  of  a  prophet.  Money 
has  suddenly  become  very  scarce  in  Seattle." 

"  How  many  banks  did  you  try  ?" 

"Three.  I  shall  try  the  rest  to-morrow.  How 
did  you  fare?" 

"First  blood  is  mine.  I  feel  that  I  shall  capture 
Mr.  Hilliard.  Now,  no  more  business,  do  you  under 
stand  ?  No,  you  are  not  to  mention  the  subject  again. 
You  need  a  rest.  Do  you  know  that  your  face  is 
haggard  and  drawn?  You  are  tired  out." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  he  acknowledged:  "  I  believe 
I  am.  I — I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,  Cherry." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN    WHICH    THEY    RECOGNIZE    THE    ENEMY 

BO  YD  EMERSON  slept  well  that  night,  notwith 
standing  the  disturbing  occurrences  of  the  day, 
for  during  the  evening  Cherry  had  tactfully  diverted 
him  from  all  mention  of  business,  trusts,  or  canneries, 
much  as  a  good  physical  director,  on  the  eve  of  a  con 
test,  relieves  the  grinding  monotony  of  an  athlete's 
training.  The  brain,  after  all,  is  but  flesh  and  blood, 
and,  like  the  muscles,  requires  rest;  an  unbroken  in 
tensity  of  contemplation  tends  inevitably  to  weariness 
and  pessimism. 

They  had  dined  gayly,  tete-a-tete,  while  care  fled  be 
fore  the  girl's  exuberant  spirits.  Contentment  had  deep 
ened  in  the  companionable  enjoyment  of  a  play,  and 
later  a  little  supper-party,  at  which  Big  George  and 
Alton  Clyde  were  present,  had  completed  Boyd's  men 
tal  refreshment,  to  Cherry's  satisfaction. 

True,  it  had  required  all  her  skill  to  prevent  the  big 
fisherman  from  holding  forth  upon  the  issue  uppermost 
in  his  mind;  but  his  loyalty  to  her  was  doglike,  and 
once  he  found  that  his  pet  topic  was  tabooed,  he  lapsed 
into  a  good-natured  contemplation  of  his  finger-nails, 
which  he  polished  industriously  with  his  napkin. 

The  girl  had  further  demonstrated  her  power  over  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  by  reducing  the  blase*  young 
club-man  to  a  state  of  grinning  admiration.  "  Finger- 

187 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

less  "  Fraser  alone  had  been  missing  from  the  coterie. 
He  had  discovered  them  from  a  distance,  to  be  sure,  and 
come  over  to  exchange  greetings  with  Cherry ,  but  the  dis 
astrous  result  of  the  fellow's  garrulity  was  still  so  fresh 
in  Boyd's  mind  that  he  could  not  invite  him  to  join 
them,  and  Fraser,  with  singular  modesty,  had  quickly 
withdrawn,  to  wander  lonesomely  for  a  while,  till  sheer 
ennui  drove  him  to  bed.  His  dejection  awakened  little 
sympathy  in  Boyd,  who  felt  happier  for  the  removal 
of  his  irritating  presence. 

In  the  morning  Boyd  was  brought  sharply  back  to  a 
realization  of  his  difficult  position  by  a  letter  from 
Mildred  Wayland. 

"Father  and  I  had  another  scene  over  you,"  wrote 
Mildred.  "  It  was  the  first  quarrel  we  ever  had,  and 
I'm  half  sick  as  a  result.  I  simply  can't  bear  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  we  have  agreed  to  drop  the  subject.  What 
roused  him  to  such  a  sudden  fury  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know." 

Boyd  knew,  however,  and  the  knowledge  did  not 
add  to  his  comfort. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the  Trust's  enmity  had  marked 
him  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  financial  world;  he  was 
again  denied  assistance  at  the  banks,  and  this  time 
in  a  manner  to  show  him  the  futility  of  argument  or 
further  effort.  The  reasons  given  were  as  final  as  they 
were  vague,  and  night  found  the  young  promoter  half 
dazed  and  desperately  frightened  at  the  completeness 
of  the  disaster  which  had  overwhelmed  him  in  the  brief 
space  of  thirty-six  hours.  He  could  not  blind  himself 
to  the  situation.  Those  Chicago  men  who  had  backed 
him  were  personal  friends,  and  they  had  risked  their 
hard-earned  dollars  purely  upon  the  strength  of  his 
vivid  assurances.  He  had  prevailed  upon  them  to  in- 

188 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

vest  more  than  they  could  afford,  and  while  ultimate 
failure  might  be  forgiven,  it  savored  less  of  indiscretion 
than  of  criminal  culpability  to  be  left  at  the  very  out 
set  of  the  enterprise  with  a  shipload  of  useless  machin 
ery  upon  the  docks  at  Seattle.  Ruin  was  close  upon 
him. 

In  his  perplexity  he  turned  naturally  to  Cherry,  who 
listened  to  his  tale  of  repeated  failure  with  furrowed 
brows,  pondering  the  matter  as  seriously  as  if  the 
responsibility  had  been  her  own. 

"The  battle  has  begun  sooner  than  I  expected," 
she  said,  at  length.  "  I  never  dreamed  they  could  fix 
the  banks  so  quickly." 

"  Somehow,  I  can't  believe  this  is  the  work  of  the 
Trust  people ;  I  don't  see  how  they  could  accomplish  so 
much  in  so  short  a  time.  Why,  it  came  like  a  thunder 
clap." 

"  I  hope  I  am  wrong,"  she  answered,  "but  something 
unexpected  must  have  happened  to  change  Mr.  Hil- 
liard's  attitude.  What  could  it  be  except  pressure 
from  higher  sources?" 

"  Has  he  dropped  any  hint  before  you  ? " 

"Not  a  hint.  He  wouldn't  let  go  of  anything. 
Why,  he  is  too  close-fisted  to  drop  his  r's." 

"  So  I  am  told.  He  belongs  to  that  anomalous  class 
who  are  as  rigid  in  business  methods  as  they  are  loose 
in  private  morals." 

"Indeed!"     Cherry  seemed  curious. 

"But  inasmuch  as  his  extravagance  begins  at  10  P.M. 
and  ends  at  10  A.M.,  it  doesn't  seem  to  affect  his  social 
standing.  However,  we  needn't  discuss  his  personal 
character;  there's  enough  to  think  of  without  that. 
Will  you  take  dinner  with  me  this  evening,  so  that  we 
can  talk  over  any  further  developments?" 

189 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"I  am  to  dine  with  Mr.  Hilliard,"  said  the  girl. 

"Oh!"  Boyd's  tone  of  disappointment  seemed  dis 
proportionate  to  the  occasion.  He  endeavored  to  dis 
guise  his  feeling  by  saying,  lightly:  "You  are  breaking 
into  exclusive  circles.  He  lives  in  quite  a  palace,  I'm 
told." 

"  I — I'm  not  dining  at  his  home."  Cherry  hesitated, 
and  Boyd  flashed  a  sharp  glance  at  her.  A  faint  color 
flushed  her  cheeks,  as  she  explained:  "He  could  not 
see  me  at  the  office  to-day,  so  he  arranged  for  me  to 
take  dinner  with  him." 

"I  see."  Boyd  detected  a  note  hitherto  strange  in 
his  own  voice.  "I  am  going  to  try  the  Tacoma  banks 
to-morrow.  Would  you  like  to  run  over  with  me  in 
the  morning.  The  Sound  trip  is  beautiful." 

"I  would  love  to,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  may  have 
something  to  report  if  I  can  make  Mr.  Hilliard  talk." 

"Out  of  curiosity,  I  should  like  to  know  what  in 
fluenced  him. ' '  All  women  were  more  or  less  suspicious, 
he  reflected,  and  some  of  them  were  highly  intuitive; 
still,  he  could  not  believe  that  this  was  all  Willis  Marsh's 
doing.  As  he  mused  he  idly  thumbed  the  pages  of  a 
magazine.  He  was  about  to  lay  it  down  when  his  eye 
caught  a  well-known  face,  and  he  started,  then  glanced 
at  the  date  of  issue.  It  was  a  duplicate  of  that  copy 
which  had  affected  him  so  deeply  in  Cherry's  house  at 
Kalvik.  He  lifted  his  eyes  to  find  her  scrutinizing  him. 

"No,  you  can't  cut  out  that  page,"  she  said,  with  a 
slightly  embarrassed  laugh. 

"Where  did  you  run  across  this?" 

"I  didn't  run  across  it,"  she  admitted;  "I  scoured 
the  book-stalls  for  it  all  the  morning.  Curiosity  is  a 
feminine  trait,  you  know." 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 
190 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"That  missing  page  has  caused  me  insomnia  for 
months.  But  now  I'm  as  puzzled  as  ever,  for  there 
are  two  pictures,  one  on  either  side  of  the  leaf,  and  each 
has  possibilities.  Which  is  it — the  society  bud  or  the 
prima  donna?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  answered,  some 
what  stiffly.  His  love  for  Mildred  Wayland  had  al 
ways  been  so  sacred  and  inviolable  a  thing  that  even 
Cherry's  frank  inquisitiveness  seemed  an  intrusion. 

"I'll  call  for  you  in  time  for  the  nine-o'clock  boat," 
he  added,  as  he  arose  to  go.  "  Meanwhile,  if  you  get 
a  hint  from  Hilliard,  it  may  be  useful." 

Left  to  his  own  devices,  Boyd  spent  the  evening  in 
gloomy  solitude,  vainly  seeking  for  some  way  out  of 
his  difficulties.  But,  despite  his  preoccupation  with 
his  own  affairs,  a  vague  feeling  of  resentment  at  the 
thought  of  Cherry  ana  Hilliard  kept  forcing  itself  upon 
his  mind.  Perhaps  the  girl's  indiscretion  was  of  no 
very  serious  nature;  yet  he  found  it  hard  to  excuse  even 
a  small  breach  of  propriety  upon  her  part.  Surely, 
she  must  understand  the  imprudence  of  dining  alone 
with  the  banker.  His  attentions  to  her  could  have 
but  one  interpretation.  And  she  was  too  nice  a  girl 
to  compromise  herself  in  the  slightest  degree.  Al 
though  he  told  himself  that  a  business  reason  had 
prompted  her,  and  reflected  that  the  business  methods 
of  women  are  baffling  to  the  mind  of  mere  man,  his 
reasoning  quite  failed  to  reconcile  him  to  the  situation. 
In  the  end  he  had  to  acknowledge  that  he  did  not  like 
the  look  of  it  in  the  least. 

But  in  the  morning  he  found  it  impossible  to  main 
tain  a  critical  attitude  in  Cherry's  presence.  She  had 
finished  her  breakfast  when  he  called,  and  was  awaiting 
him,  clad  in  a  brown  velvet  suit  which  set  off  her  trim 

191 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

figure  with  all  the  effectiveness  of  skilful  tailoring. 
Brown  boots  and  gloves  to  match,  with  a  dainty  turban 
in  which  lay  the  golden  gleam  of  a  pheasant's  plumage, 
completed  the  picture.  She  was  as  perfect  to  the  eye 
as  the  morning  itself. 

"Well,  did  Hilliard  expose  the  hidden  mysteries  of 
the  banking  system?"  he  questioned,  as  they  walked 
down  toward  the  water  front. 

"He  did.     It  is  no  mystery  at  all  now." 

"Then  it  was  that  newspaper  story  that  frightened 
him." 

"Indirectly,  perhaps.     He  didn't  mention  it." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Nothing!     Then  how—?" 

"  He  informed  me  that  you  are  in  love  with  the 
society  girl  and  not  with  the  actress.  He  said  you  are 
engaged  to  marry  Miss  Wayland." 

"Yes.     But  what  did  he  say  about  the  loan?" 

"Only  what  I  have  told  you.  The  rest  is  easy. 
Had  you  been  less  secretive,  I  would  have  known  in 
stantly  whom  to  blame  for  this  trouble.  Wayne 
Wayland  and  Willis  Marsh  are  working  double,  and 
inasmuch  as  you  are  persona  non  grata — " 

"Who  told  you  I  am  persona  non  grata?" 

"  You  told  me  yourself  without  intending  to.  Please 
give  me  credit  for  some  shrewdness.  If  you  had  been 
a  welcome  suitor,  you  would  have  had  no  difficulty 
in  raising  twice  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in 
Chicago.  Then,  too,  I  remember  the  story  you  told 
me  at  Kalvik,  your  mental  attitude — many  things,  in 
fact.  Oh,  it  was  very  simple." 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  What  has  all  that  got  to  do  with 
my  present  difficulty?" 

192 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Listen !  You  want  to  marry  the  daughter  of  the 
greatest  trust-builder  in  the  country,  and  he  doesn't 
want  you  for  a  son-in-law.  You  undertake  an  enter 
prise  which  seriously  threatens  his  financial  interests, 
and  if  successful  in  that,  you  could  defy  his  opposition 
in  the  other  matter.  Now  all  goes  well  until  he  learns 
of  your  plans,  then  he  strikes  with  his  own  weapons. 
A  word  here  and  there,  a  hint  to  the  banks,  and  your 
fine  castle  comes  tumbling  down  about  your  ears. 
I  thought  you  had  more  perception." 

The  girl's  voice  was  sharp,  and  she  wore  that  ex 
pression  of  unyouthful  weariness  that  Boyd  had  noted 
before.  He  could  not  help  wondering  what  bitter 
experience  had  taught  her  disillusion,  what  strange 
environment  had  edged  her  wits  with  worldly  wisdom. 

"We  haven't  figured  Marsh  in  at  all,"  he  said,  ten 
tatively. 

"  He  figures,  nevertheless,  as  I  intend  to  show  you 
to-day.  To  begin  with,  please  notice  that  unobtrusive 
man  in  the  gray  suit — not  now!  Don't  look  around 
for  a  minute.  You  will  see  him  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street." 

Boyd  turned,  to  observe  a  rat-faced  fellow  across  the 
way,  evidently  bound  for  the  Tacoma  boat. 

"Is  he  following  us?" 

"  I  see  him  everywhere  I  go." 

Boyd's  face  clouded  angrily,  at  which  Cherry  ex 
claimed:  "Now,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  mimic  Big 
George,  or  we'll  never  learn  anything!" 

"I  won't  stand  for  a  spy!"  he  growled. 

"And  be  arrested?" 

"No,"  he  assured  her,  grimly.  "It  may  be  as  you 
suspect,  but  you  needn't  fear  that  I'll  ever  go  to  jail 
for  assaulting  one  of  Willis  Marsh's  helpers." 

193 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

She  glanced  up  quickly,  as  if  detecting  a  double 
meaning  in  his  words;  then,  at  the  smouldering  fires  she 
beheld,  observed,  in  a  gentler  tone:  "  You  care  a  great 
deal  for  Miss  Way  land,  don't  you  ?" 

His  only  answer  was  a  deep  breath  and  a  slow  turning 
of  the  head,  but  once  she  had  seen  the  look  in  his  eyes 
she  needed  no  other.  She  could  only  say:  "  I  hope  she 
is  worthy  of  all  she  is  causing  you  to  suffer,  Boyd, 
so  few  of  us  are." 

She  did  not  speak  again,  but  in  her  heart  was  a  great 
heaviness.  They  reached  the  dock  and  lost  sight  of 
the  spy,  only  to  have  him  reappear  soon  after  the  boat 
cleared,  and  while  neither  spoke  of  it,  they  felt  his 
presence  during  the  whole  trip. 

Before  them  Rainier  lifted  its  majestic,  snow-crowned 
head  high  into  the  heavens,  its  serrated  slopes  softened 
by  a  purple  haze,  its  soaring  crest  limned  in  blazing 
glory  by  the  sun.  The  bay  beneath  them  was  like  a 
huge  silver  shield,  flat-rolled  and  glittering,  inlaid  with 
master  cunning  between  wooded  hills  that  swept  away 
into  mysterious  distances,  there  to  rise  skyward  in  an 
ever-changing,  ever-charming  confusion.  It  reflected 
fairy-like  islands,  overgrown  till  they  bowed  to  their 
mirrored  likenesses.  Now  a  smiling  inlet  opened  up  a 
perspective  of  golden  sand  and  whispering  shingle; 
again  a  frowning  bluff  slipped  past,  lost  in  lonely  con 
templation  of  its  own  inverted  image.  The  day  was 
gorgeous,  inspiring.  Their  course  lay  through  an  en 
chanted  region,  so  suggestive  of  splendid  possibilities 
that  Boyd  was  constrained  to  observe: 

"  You  know,  if  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  had  landed  here 
in  the  first  place,  New  England  would  never  have  been 
discovered,"  a  remark  at  which  Cherry  nodded  in  com 
plete  agreement. 

194 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

At  Tacoma  Boyd  left  her,  to  go  about  his  business, 
but  joined  her  later  at  lunch,  with  the  joyful  announce 
ment: 

"I've  had  better  luck,  this  time.  They  said  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  whatever  in  handling  the  matter, 
and  they  are  to  let  me  know  definitely  to-morrow." 

"Did  Hawkshaw  hound  you  to  the  bank?"  she  in 
quired. 

"I  rather  think  so." 

"Then  to-morrow  will  tell  the  tale." 

"You  mean  the  bank  will  turn  me  down?" 

"  Yes,  if  I've  sized  up  the  situation  correctly.  I  dare 
say  these  banks  are  as  cautious  as  those  in  Seattle, 
and  a  few  words  over  the  telephone  would  do  the  trick." 

"  I'm  inclined  to  give  that  shadow  a  little  personal 
attention,"  the  young  man  mused;  but  when  she  ques 
tioned  him,  he  only  smiled  and  assured  her  of  his 
caution. 

Again  on  the  return  trip  they  discovered  the  fellow 
among  the  passengers,  but  Boyd  made  no  sign  until  the 
boat  was  landing.  Then  Cherry  found  that  he  had 
edged  her  into  the  crowd  massed  at  the  gangway,  and 
caught  sight  of  the  man  in  gray  immediately  ahead  of 
them.  She  noticed  that  while  Emerson  maintained  a 
flow  of  conversation  his  eyes  were  constantly  upon  the 
fellow's  back,  and  that  he  kept  a  position  close  to  his 
shoulder,  regardless  of  jostling  from  the  others.  She 
could  not  tell  what  this  foreboded,  nor  did  she  gain  a 
hint  of  Boyd's  purpose,  until  the  gang-plank  was  in 
place  and  they  were  out  upon  it.  A  narrow  space  sep 
arated  the  boat  from  the  dock;  as  they  crossed  this, 
Boyd  slipped  and  half  fell  on  the  slanting  planks. 
She  never  knew  exactly  what  happened,  except  that 
he  released  her  arm  and  lunged  violently  against  the 

195 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

man  in  gray,  who  was  next  him.  It  occurred  with  the 
suddenness  of  pure  accident,  and  the  next  she  saw  was 
the  stranger  plunging  downward  along  the  piling,  clutch 
ing  wildly  at  the  vessel's  side,  while  Boyd  clung  to  the 
guard-rope  as  if  about  to  lose  his  balance. 

The  man's  cry  as  he  struck  the  water  alarmed  the 
crowd  and  caused  a  momentary  stampede,  in  which 
Cherry  and  Boyd  were  thrust  shoreward;  but  the  con 
fusion  quickly  subsided,  as  an  officer  flung  a  heaving- 
line  to  the  gasping  creature  beneath.  A  moment  later 
the  hatless  spy  was  dragged  to  the  dock,  indignant 
and  sputtering. 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir."  Boyd  apologized,  profusely. 
"  It  was  all  my  fault.  The  plank  was  steep,  and  I  was 
forced  off  my  feet.  Whenever  I'm  followed  too  closely, 
I  lose  my  head — it's  a  weakness  I  have." 

The  man  ceased  cursing  to  dart  a  sharp  glance  at 
him,  but  he  was  still  too  unmanned  by  his  cold  im 
mersion  to  do  more  than  chatter  angrily.  In  the 
hubbub  Emerson  led  his  companion  out  into  the 
street,  where  she  beheld  him  shaking  with  suppressed 
laughter. 

"Boyd,"  she  cried,  in  a  shocked  voice,  "then  it  was 
— you— you  might  have  killed  him !  Suppose  his  head 
had  struck  a  timber!" 

"Yes,  that  would  have  been  too  bad!"  he  declared; 
then,  at  the  sight  of  her  face,  his  chuckle  changed  to 
a  wolfish  snarl.  "  He'll  know  enough  to  keep  away 
from  me  hereafter.  I  won't  play  with  him  the  next 
time." 

"Don't!  Don't!  I  never  saw  you  look  so.  Why, 
it  might  have  been  murder!" 

"Well?"     He  stared  at  her,  curiously. 

"I— I  didn't  think  it  of  you."  She  shuddered 
196 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

weakly,  but  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said, 
with  a  finality  that  cut  off  further  discussion: 
"He's  a  spy!     I  won't  be  spied  upon." 

When  Boyd  entered  his  room  at  the  hotel,  whither 
he  had  gone  after  leaving  Cherry  at  Milliard's  bank, 
Big  George  greeted  him  excitedly. 

"  Here's  hell  to  pay.     We  can't  get  that  barkentine." 

"The  Margaret?  Why  not?  The  charter  was  all 
arranged." 

"The  agent  telephoned  that  we  couldn't  have  her." 

"What  reasons  did  he  offer?" 

"  None.     We  can't  have  her,  that's  all." 

"  She's  the  only  available  ship  on  the  Sound.  Our 
stuff  will  be  here  in  a  fortnight." 

"Some  of  it  will." 

"What  do  you—?" 

"  Boilers  held  up." 

"Boilers?" 

"  Yes.     Read  that."     Bait  tossed  him  a  telegram. 

"'Shipment  delayed,'"  read  Boyd.  "Well!  This 
is  growing  interesting.  Thank  Heaven,  other  people 
handle  machinery!"  He  reached  for  a  blank,  and 
hurriedly  wrote  a  message  cancelling  his  order.  "  I 
guess  Cherry  was  right.  Marsh  is  fighting  to  delay 
us."  He  began  a  recital  of  the  morning's  occurrences, 
but  before  he  had  finished  he  was  called  to  the  tele 
phone. 

"More  bad  news!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  re-entered 
the  room.  "  The  Jackson-Nebur  Company  say  they  can't 
make  delivery  of  their  order.  I  wonder  what  next." 

"We  don't  need  nothing  more  to  cripple  us,  "George 
declared,  blankly.  "Any  one  of  these  blows  is  a 
knockout." 

197 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  later  that  Cherry  entered 
unannounced. 

"  I  just  ran  in  for  a  minute  to  tell  you  something 
new.  When  I  came  up  from  the  bank,  the  elevator  boy 
at  the  hotel  made  a  mistake  and  carried  me  past  my 
floor.  Without  noticing  the  difference,  I  went  down 
the  hall,  and  whom  should  I  run  right  into,  coming  out 
of  a  room,  but  our  detective!  As  he  opened  the  door 
I  heard  him  say, '  Very  well,  sir,  I'll  report  to-morrow.' " 

"To  whom  was  he  reporting?" 

"  I  don't  know.  A  few  minutes  later  I  called  you 
up,  to  tell  you  about  it;  but  while  I  was  waiting  for 
my  number,  the  operator  evidently  got  the  wires 
crossed  or  left  a  switch  open,  for  I  heard  this  much 
of  a  conversation: 

" '  Our  contract  covers  fifty  thousand  cases  at  five 
dollars.  We  thought  that  was  at  least  twenty  cents 
under  the  market.' 

"  I  was  about  to  ring  off  when  I  remembered  that 
you  had  sold  your  output  of  fifty  thousand  cases  to 
Bloc  &  Company  for  five  dollars  a  case,  so  I  listened, 
on  a  chance,  and  heard  another  voice  reply — " 

"Whose  voice?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  said,  'We'll  undersell  that  by 
one  dollar.' 

"'Good  Lord!'  said  the  first  speaker,  'that  means  a 
loss  of — '  and  then  I  was  cut  off.  I  thought  I'd  better 
come  over  in  person  instead  of  trusting  to  the  wire." 

"And  you  didn't  recognize  either  speaker?" 

"  No.  But  I  discovered  at  the  office  that  rooms 
610  and  612 — the  suite  I  saw  that  detective  coming 
out  of — are  occupied  by  a  Mr.  Jones,  of  New  York, 
who  arrived  three  days  ago.  I'll  bet  anything  you 
please  that  you'll  hear  from  Bloc  &  Company  within 

198 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

twenty-four  hours,  and  that  the  occupant  of  those 
rooms  at  the  Hotel  Buller  is  Willis  Marsh." 

Big  George  began  to  mutter  profanely.  "  It  looks 
like  they  had  us,  and  all  because  Eraser's  tongue  is 
hung  in  the  middle." 

"All  the  same,  we'll  fight  it  out,"  said  Emerson, 
grimly.  "If  I  can  raise  that  money  in  Tacoma — " 
Again  the  telephone  bell  buzzed  noisily. 

"Bloc  &  Company,"  predicted  Cherry,  but  for  once 
she  was  wrong. 

"  A  call  from  Tacoma,"  said  Boyd,  the  receiver  to  his 
ear;  "  it  must  be  the  Second  National.  They  were  not 
to  let  me  know  till  to-morrow."  Through  the  open 
door  of  the  adjoining  room  his  words  came  distinctly, 
while  the  others  listened  in  tense  silence. 

"Hello!  Yes!  This  is  Boyd  Emerson."  Then 
followed  a  pause,  during  which  the  thin,  rasping  voice 
of  the  distant  speaker  murmured  unintelligibly. 

"  Why  not  ?  Can't  you  give  me  a  reason  ?  I  thought 
you  said —  Very  well.  Good-bye." 

Emerson  hung  up  the  receiver  carefully,  and  with 
the  same  deliberation  turned  to  face  his  companions. 
He  nodded,  and  spread  his  hands  outward  in  an  un 
mistakable  gesture. 

"What!   already?"  queried  the  girl. 

"  They  must  have  been  reached  by  'phone." 

"That  detective  may  have  called  Marsh  up  from 
there." 

"  That  means  it  won't  do  any  good  to  try  further  in 
Tacoma.  The  other  banks  have  undoubtedly  been 
fixed,  or  they  soon  will  be.  If  I  can  slip  away  undis 
covered,  I'll  try  Vancouver  next,  but  I  haven't  much 
hope." 

"  It  looks  bad,  doesn't  it?"  said  Cherry. 

14  IQ9 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  As  we  stand  at  present,"  Boyd  acknowledged,  "we 
are  the  owners  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  useless  machinery  and  unsalable  supplies." 

"  And  all,"  mused  the  girl,  "  because  of  a  loose  tongue 
and  a  little  type!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  DOORS  OF  THE  VAULT  SWING  SHUT 

"T  SAY,  old  man,  just  how  do  we  stack  up?"  questioned 

1  Alton  Clyde,  when,  later  in  the  week,  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  pinning  Boyd  down  for  a  moment's  conver 
sation.  "  Blessed  if  I  know  what's  going  on." 

"Well,  we're  up  against  it." 

"How?" 

"  That  newspaper  story  started  it."  Emerson's  teeth 
snapped  angrily,  and  Clyde's  colorless  eyes  shifted. 
"  Eraser  let  his  tongue  wag,  and  immediately  the  banks 
closed  up  on  me.  I've  tried  every  one  in  this  city,  in 
Tacoma,  in  Vancouver,  and  in  Victoria,  but  it  seems 
that  they  have  all  been  advised  of  war  in  the  canning 
business.  Our  ship  was  taken  away  from  us,  and 
although  I  have  found  another,  I'm  afraid  to  charter  it 
until  I  see  my  way  out.  Then  there  have  been  delays 
in  various  shipments — boilers,  tin,  lumber,  and  all 
that.  I  haven't  worried  you  with  half  the  details;  but 
George  and  I  have  forgotten  what  a  night's  rest  looks 
like.  Now  Bloc  &  Company  are  trying  to  get  out  of 
their  contract  to  take  our  output."  Emerson  sighed 
heavily  and  sank  deeper  into  his  chair,  his  weariness 
of  mind  and  body  betrayed  by  his  utter  relaxation. 
"I  guess  we  are  done  for.  I'm  about  all  in." 

"Glory  be!"  exclaimed  the  dapper  little  club-man, 
with  a  comical  furrow  of  care  upon  his  brow.  "  When 
you  give  up,  it  is  quitting  time." 

201 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  haven't  given  up ;  I  am  doing  all  I  can,  but  things 
are  in  a  diabolical  tangle.  Some  of  our  supplies  are 
here;  others  are  laid  out  on  the  road;  some  seem  to  be 
utterly  lost.  We  have  had  to  make  substitutions  of 
machinery,  our  bills  are  overdue,  and — but  what's  the 
use!  We  need  money.  That's  the  crux  of  the  whole 
affair.  When  Hilliard  balked,  he  threw  the  whole 
proposition." 

"And  I'm  stung  for  ten  thou,"  reflected  Clyde, 
lugubriously.  "Ten  thousand  drops  of  my  heart's 
red  blood!  Good  Lord!  I'm  a  fierce  business  man. 
Say!  I  ought  to  be  the  purchasing  agent  for  the 
Farmers'  Alliance;  gold  bricks  are  my  specialty.  I 
haven't  won  a  bet  since  the  battle  of  Bull  Run." 

"What  about  the  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  that 
you  raised?"  Emerson  asked. 

Clyde  began  to  laugh,  shrilly.  "  That's  painfully  fun 
ny.  I  hadn't  thought  about  that." 

"  The  situation  may  be  remarkable,  but  I  don't  see 
anything  humorous  in  it,"  said  Emerson,  dryly. 

"  Oh,  you  would  if  you  only  knew,  but  I  can't  tell  you 
what  it  is.  You  see,  I  promised  not  to  divulge  where 
the  money  came  from,  and  when  I  give  my  word  I'm 
a  regular  Sphinx.  But  it's  funny."  After  an  instant 
he  said,  in  all  seriousness :  "  If  Hilliard  holds  the  com 
bination  to  this  thing,  why  don't  you  have  Cherry  help 
us?" 

"  Cherry !     How  can  she  help  ?" 

"  She  can  do  anything  she  wants  with  him." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  may  be  a  heavy  autumn  frost  as  a  financier,"  the 
younger  man  remarked,  "but  when  it  comes  to  women 
I'm  as  wise  as  a  wharf  rat.  I've  been  watching  her 
work,  and  it's  great;  people  have  begun  to  talk  about  it. 

202 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Every  night  it's  a  dinner  and  a  theatre  party.  Every 
day,  orchids  and  other  extortionate  bouquets,  with 
jewel-boxes  tied  on  with  blue  ribbons.  His  motor  is 
at  her  disposal  at  all  times,  and  she  treats  his  chauffeur 
with  open  contempt.  If  that  doesn't  signify — " 

"  Nonsense ! "  exclaimed  the  other  with  disgust.  "  She 
is  too  nice  a  girl  for  that.  You  have  misconstrued  Hil- 
liard's  politeness." 

Finding  his  worldly  wisdom  at  issue,  Clyde  defended 
himself  stoutly.  "  I  tell  you,  he  has  gone  off  his  bloom 
ing  balance;  I  know  the  symptoms;  leave  it  to  old  Doc 
tor  Clyde." 

"You  say  other  people  have  noticed  it?" 

"  I  do !  Everybody  in  town  except  you  and  the  news 
dealer  at  the  corner — he's  blind." 

Emerson  rose  from  his  chair,  and  began  to  pace  about 
slowly.  "  If  Hilliard  has  turned  that  girl's  head  with 
his  attentions,  I'll — 

Clyde  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  in  open 
derision.  "  Don't  worry  about  her — he  is  the  one  to 
be  pitied.  She's  taking  him  on  a  Seeing  -  Seattle 
trip  of  the  most  approved  and  expensive  charac 
ter." 

"She  isn't  that  kind,"  Emerson  hotly  denied. 

"  Now  don't  be  a  boy  until  your  beard  trips  you  up. 
That  girl  is  about  to  break  into  old  Hilliard's  vault,  and 
while  she's  in  there,  with  the  gas  lighted  and  a  suit  case 
to  lug  off  the  bank-notes,  why  not  tell  her  to  toss  in  a 
few  bundles  for  us?" 

"  If  I  can't  get  along  without  taking  money  from  a 
woman,  I'll  throw  up  the  whole  deal." 

The  curious  look  which  Boyd  had  noted  once  before 
came  into  Clyde's  eyes,  and  this  time,  to  judge  by  the 
young  fellow's  manner,  he  might  have  translated  it 

203 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

into  words  but  for  the  entrance  at  that  moment  of 
Cherry  herself,  accompanied  by  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser. 

"What  luck  in  Vancouver?"  she  inquired. 

"  None  whatever.  The  banks  won't  listen  to  me,  and 
I  can't  interest  any  private  parties." 

"See  here,"  volunteered  Fraser,  "why  don't  you  let 
me  sell  some  of  your  stock?  I'm  there  with  the  big 
talk." 

Emerson  turned  on  him  suddenly.  "  You  have  de 
monstrated  that.  If  you  had  kept  your  mouth  shut 
we'd  have  been  at  sea  by  now." 

The  fellow's  face  paled  slightly  as  he  replied:  "I 
told  you  once  that  I  didn't  tip  your  mit." 

"Don't  keep  that  up!"  cried  Boyd,  his  much-tried 
temper  ready  to  give  way.  "  I  can  put  up  with  any 
thing  but  a  lie." 

Noting  the  signs  of  a  rising  storm,  Clyde  scrambled 
out  of  his  chair,  saying:  "Well,  I  think  I'll  be  going." 
He  picked  up  his  hat  and  stick,  and  hurriedly  left  the 
room,  followed  in  every  movement  by  the  angry  eyes 
of  Fraser,  who  seemed  on  the  point  of  an  explosion. 

"I  don't  believe  Fraser  gave  out  the  story,"  said 
Cherry,  at  which  he  flashed  her  a  grateful  glance. 

"You  can  make  a  book  on  that,"  he  declared.  "I 
may  be  a  crook,  but  I'm  no  sucker,  and  I  know  when 
to  hobble  my  talk  and  when  to  slip  the  bridle.  I  did 
five  years  once  when  it  wasn't  coming  to  me,  and  I  can 
do  it  again — if  I  have  to."  He  jammed  his  hat  down 
over  his  ears,  and  walked  out. 

"  I  really  think  he  is  telling  the  truth,"  said  the  girl. 
"He  is  dreadfully  hurt  to  think  you  distrust  him." 

"He  and  I  have  threshed  that  out,"  Emerson 
declared,  pacing  the  room  with  nervous  strides. 
"  When  I  think  what  an  idiotic  trifle  it  was  that  caused 

204 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

this  disaster,  I  could  throttle  him — and  I  would  if  I 
didn't  blame  myself  for  it."  He  paused  to  stare  un- 
seeingly  at  her.  "  I'm  waiting  for  the  crash  to  come 
before  I  walk  into  room  610  at  the  Hotel  Buller  and 
settle  with  'Mr.  Jones,  of  New  York.'  " 

"  You  aren't  seriously  thinking  of  any  such  melo 
dramatic  finish,  are  you?"  she  inquired. 

"  When  I  first  met  you  in  Kalvik,  I  said  I  would  stop 
at  nothing  to  succeed.  Well,  I  meant  it.  I  am  more 
desperate  now  than  I  was  then.  I  could  have  stood  over 
that  wretch  at  the  dock,  the  other  day,  and  watched 
him  drown,  because  he  dared  to  step  in  between  me 
and  my  work.  I  could  walk  into  Willis  Marsh's  room 
and  strangle  him,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  win.  Yes!" 
he  checked  her,  "  I  know  I  am  wrong,  but  that  is  how 
I  feel.  I  have  wrung  my  soul  dry.  I  have  toiled  and 
sweated  and  suffered  for  three  years,  constantly  held 
down  by  the  grip  of  some  cursed  evil  fortune.  A  dozen 
times  I  have  climbed  to  the  very  brink  of  success,  only 
to  be  thrust  down  by  some  trivial  cause  like  this.  Can 
you  wonder  that  I  have  watched  my  honor  decay  and 
crumble? — that  I've  ceased  to  care  what  means  I  use 
so  long  as  I  succeed  ?  I  have  fought  fair  so  far,  but 
now,  I  tell  you,  I've  come  to  a  point  where  I'd  sacrifice 
anything,  everything  to  get  what  I  want — and  I  want 
that  girl." 

"  You  are  tired  and  overwrought/'  said  Cherry, 
quietly.  "  You  don't  mean  what  you  say.  The  success 
of  this  enterprise,  with  any  happiness  it  may  bring  you, 
isn't  worth  a  human  life;  nor  is  it  worth  what  you  are 
suffering." 

"Perhaps  not,  from  your  point  of  view,"  he  said, 
roughly,  then  struck  his  palm  with  closed  fist.  "  What 
an  idiot  I  was  to  begin  all  this — to  think  I  could  win 

205 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

with  no  weapons  and  no  aid  except  a  half-mad  fisher 
man,  an  addle-brained  imbecile,  a  confidence  man — " 

"  And  a  woman,"  supplemented  Cherry.  Then,  more 
gravely:  "I'm  the  one  to  blame;  I  got  you  into  it." 

"  No,  I  blame  no  one  but  myself.  Whatever  you're 
responsible  for,  there's  only  one  person  you've  harmed 
— yourself." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Cherry. 

Her  surprise  left  him  unimpressed. 

"  Let's  be  frank,"  he  said.  "  It  is  best  to  have  such 
things  out  and  be  done  with  them.  I  traded  my  friend 
ship  for  money  and  I  am  ruined.  You  are  staking  your 
honor  against  Hilliard's  bank-notes."  Her  look  com 
manded  him,  pleaded  with  him,  to  stop ;  but  her  silence 
only  made  him  the  more  fiercely  determined  to  force 
an  explanation.  "  Oh,  I'm  in  no  mood  to  speak  gently," 
he  said;  then  added,  with  a  sting  of  contempt  in  his 
tone:  "I  didn't  think  you  would  pay  quite  that  price 
for  your  copper-mine." 

Cherry  Malotte  paled  to  her  lips,  and  when  she  spoke 
her  voice  was  oddly  harsh.  "  Kindly  be  more  explicit; 
I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

"Then,  for  your  own  good,  you'd  better  understand. 
According  to  accepted  standards,  there  is  one  thing  no 
woman  should  trade  upon." 

"Goon!" 

"You  have  set  yourself  to  trap  Hilliard,  and,  from 
what  I  hear,  you  are  succeeding.  He  is  a  married  man. 
He  is  twice  your  age.  He  is  notorious — all  of  which 
you  must  know,  and  yet  you  have  deliberately  yielded 
yourself  to  him  for  a  price." 

Suddenly  he  found  the  girl  standing  over  him  with 
burning  eyes  and  quivering  body. 

"What  right  have  you  to  say  such  things  to  me?" 
206 


WHAT      RIGHT      HAVE      YOU      TO      SAY      SUCH      THINGS      TO      ME?' 
SHE     CRIED 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

she  cried.  "A  moment  ago  you  acknowledged  your 
self  a  murderer — at  least  in  thought;  you  said  you 
would  sacrifice  anything  or  everything  to  gain  your 
ends.  Do  you  think  I'm  like  that,  too?  Are  my 
methods  to  be  called  shameful  because  your  own  are 
criminal?  And  suppose  they  were!  Do  you  think 
that  you  and  your  love  for  that  unfeeling  woman,  who 
sent  you  out  to  toil  and  suffer  and  sweat  your  soul  dry 
in  the  solitude  of  that  horrible  country,  are  the  only 
issues  in  the  world?" 

"We  won't  speak  of  her,"  he  broke  in,  sharply. 

"Oh  yes,  we  will.  You  say  I  have  set  a  price  on 
myself.  Well,  she  set  a  price  on  herself,  but  you  can't 
see  it.  Her  price  was  your  honor,  that  has  crumbled; 
your  conscience,  that  has  rotted.  You  have  paid  it, 
and  you  would  pay  double  if  she  exacted  it.  But  one 
thing  you  shall  not  do:  you  shall  not  judge  of  my 
bargains,  nor  decide  what  I  have  paid  to  any  man." 

Never  before  had  Boyd  seen  a  woman  so  transformed 
by  the  passion  of  anger.  Her  lids  had  drooped,  half 
hiding  her  eyes.  Her  whole  expression  had  hardened ; 
she  was  the  picture  of  defiant  fury.  The  mask  had 
slipped,  and  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  naked,  passion 
ate  soul,  upheaved  to  its  depths.  Oddly  enough,  he 
felt  it  thrill  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "You  are  your  own 
mistress,  and  you  have  the  right  to  make  any  bargain 
you  choose." 

She  turned  away,  and,  going  to  the  window,  stared 
down  upon  the  busy  street,  striving  to  calm  herself. 
For  a  time  the  room  was  silent,  save  for  the  muffled 
sounds  from  below;  then  she  faced  him  again,  and  he 
saw  that  her  eyes  were  misty  with  tears.  "  I  want 
you  to  know,"  she  said,  "that  I  understand  your 

207 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

position  perfectly.  If  you  don't  succeed,  you  not  only 
lose  the  girl  but  ruin  yourself,  for  you  can  never  re 
pay  the  men  who  trusted  you.  That  is  a  very  big  thing 
to  a  man,  I  know,  yet  there  must  be  a  way  out — there 
always  is.  Perhaps  it  will  present  itself  when  you  least 
expect  it."  She  gave  him  a  tired  little  smile  before 
lowering  her  veil. 

He  rose,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "  Forgive  my 
brutal  bluntness.  I'm  not  clever  at  such  things,  but 
I  would  have  said  as  much  to  my  sister  if  I  had  one." 

It  was  an  honest  attempt  to  comfort  her,  but  it 
failed.  "  Good-bye,"  she  said;  "  you  mustn't  give  up." 

All  the  way  back  to  her  hotel  her  mind  dwelt  bitterly 
upon  his  parting  words.  "  His  sister!  his  sister!"  she 
kept  repeating.  "God!  Can't  he  see?"  If  he  had 
shown  even  a  momentary  jealousy  of  Hilliard  it  would 
not  have  been  so  hard,  but  this  impersonal  attitude  was 
maddening!  The  man  had  but  one  idea  in  the  world, 
one  dream,  one  vision — another  woman.  Alone  in  her 
room,  she  still  felt  the  flesh  of  her  arm  burn,  where  he 
had  laid  his  hand,  and  then  came  the  thrill  of  that 
forgotten  kiss.  How  many  times  had  she  felt  the 
pressure  of  his  lips  upon  hers!  How  many  hopes  had 
she  built  upon  that  memory!  But  the  thought  of 
Boyd's  indifference  rose  in  sharp  conflict  with  the 
tenderness  that  prompted  her  to  help  him  at  any  cost. 
After  all,  why  not  take  what  was  offered  her  and  let  this 
man  shift  for  himself?  Why  not  live  her  life  as  she 
had  planned  it  before  he  came?  The  reward  was  at 
hand — she  had  only  to  take  it  and  let  him  go  down  as  a 
sacrifice  to  that  ice-woman  he  coveted. 

Dusk  was  falling  when  she  ceased  pacing  the  floor, 
and  with  set,  defiant  face  went  to  the  telephone,  to  call 
up  Hilliard  at  the  Rainier  Club. 

208 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  have  thought  over  your  proposition  and  I  have 
changed  my  mind,"  she  said.  "Yes,  you  may  send 
the  car  for  me  at  seven."  Then,  in  reply  to  some  re 
quest,  she  laughed  back,  through  white  lips:  "Very 
well,  if  you  wish  it — the  blue  dress.  Yes!  The  blue 
de'collete'  dress."  She  hung  up  the  receiver,  then  stood 
with  hands  clinched  while  a  shiver  ran  through  her 
slender  body.  She  stepped  to  a  closet,  and  flung  open 
the  door  to  stare  at  the  array  of  gowns. 

"So  this  is  the  end  of  my  good  resolutions,"  she 
laughed,  and  snatched  a  garment  recklessly  from  its 
hook.  "  Now  for  all  the  miserable  tricks  of  the  trade!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WILLIS    MARSH    COMES    OUT    FROM    COVER 


BALT,  Clyde,  and  Fraser  formed  a  glum 
trio  as  they  sat  in  a  nook  of  the  hotel  cafe,  sipping 
moodily  at  their  glasses,  when,  on  the  following  after 
noon,  Emerson  joined  them.  But  they  sensed  some  un 
toward  happening  even  before  he  spoke;  for  his  face 
wore  a  look  of  dazed  incredulity,  and  his  manner  was  so 
extraordinary  that  they  questioned  in  chorus: 

"What's  the  matter?     Are  you  sick?" 

"No,"  said  he.  "But  I  —  I  must  have  lost  my 
mind." 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  trick  is  turned." 

"The  trick!" 

"  I  have  raised  the  money." 

With  a  shout  that  startled  the  other  occupants  of 
the  room,  Bait  and  Clyde  jumped  to  their  feet  and 
began  to  caper  about  in  a  frenzy.  Even  "  Fingerless  " 
Fraser  's  expressionless  face  cracked  in  a  wide  grin  of 
amazement. 

"  About  noon  I  was  called  on  the  'phone  by  Hilliard. 
He  asked  me  to  come  down  to  the  bank  at  once,  and  I 
went.  He  said  he  had  reconsidered,  and  wanted  to  put 
up  the  money.  It's  up.  He'll  back  us.  I've  got  it  in 
writing.  It's  all  cinched.  One  hundred  thousand 
dollars  —  and  more,  if  we  need  it." 

210 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  You  must  have  made  a  great  talk,"  declared  Clyde. 

"  I  said  nothing.  He  offered  it  himself,  as  a  personal 
loan.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  bank." 

"Well,  I'm—!"  cried  Big  George. 

"And  that  goes  two  ways,"  supplemented  Fraser. 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  Cherry,  now.  She  will  be  de 
lighted." 

Alton  Clyde  tittered.  "  I  told  you  she  could  pull  it 
off,"  he  said. 

"This  was  Milliard's  own  notion,"  Boyd  returned, 
coldly.  "  He  merely  reconsidered  his  decision,  and — " 

"Turn  over!     You're  on  your  back." 

"  It  was  only  yesterday  afternoon  that  I  talked  with 
Cherry.  I  dare  say  she  hasn't  seen  him  since." 

"Well,  I  happen  to  know  that  she  has.  As  I  came 
home  last  night  I  saw  them  together.  They  came  out 
of  that  French  cafe"  across  the  street,  and  got  into 
Hilliard's  car.  She  was  dressed  up  like  a  pony." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  demanded  "  Fin- 
gerless"  Fraser. 

"  She  pulled  the  old  fellow's  leg,  that's  all,"  explained 
Alton. 

"Well,  it  wasn't  your  leg,  was  it?"  inquired  Fraser, 
sourly. 

"No;  I've  no  kick  coming.  I  think  she's  mighty 
clever." 

"If  I  thought  she  had  done  that,"  said  Emerson, 
slowly,  "I  wouldn't  touch  a  penny  of  the  money." 

"  I  don't  care  where  the  money  came  from  or  how 
it  got  here,"  rumbled  Bait.  "  It's  here;  that's  enough." 

"  I  care,  and  I  intend  to  find  out." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  don't  spoil  a  good  piece  of  work," 
cautioned  Clyde,  visibly  perturbed  at  Boyd's  expres 
sion.  "  You  know  you  aren't  the  only  one  to  consider 

211 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

in  this  matter;  the  rest  of  us  are  entitled  to  a  look-in. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  try  to  control  this  excess  of  virtue, 
and  when  you  get  into  one  of  those  Martin  Luther 
moods,  just  reflect  that  I  have  laid  ten  thousand  aching 
simoleons  on  the  altar." 

"Sure!"  supplemented  George;  "and  look  at  me  and 
Cherry.  Success  means  as  much  to  her  as  it  does  to 
any  of  us,  and  if  she  pulled  this  off,  you  bet  she  knew 
what  she  was  doing.  Anyhow,  you  ain't  got  any  right 
to  break  up  the  play." 

But  Boyd  clung  to  his  point  with  a  stubbornness 
which  he  himself  found  it  difficult  to  explain.  The 
arguments  of  the  others  only  annoyed  him.  The  walk 
to  Cherry's  hotel  afforded  him  time  for  reflection  which, 
while  it  deepened  his  doubt,  somewhat  lessened  his  im 
patience,  and  when  he  was  shown  into  her  presence  he 
did  not  begin  in  the  impetuous  manner  he  had  designed. 
A  certain  hesitation  and  dread  of  the  truth  mastered 
him,  and,  moreover,  the  girl's  appearance  dismayed  him. 
She  seemed  almost  ill.  She  was  listless  and  fagged. 
Upon  his  announcement  of  the  good  news,  she  only 
smiled  wearily,  and  said: 

"  I  told  you  not  to  give  up.  The  unexpected  always 
happens." 

"  And  was  it  unexpected — to  you?"  he  asked,  awk 
wardly. 

"  What  happens  is  nearly  always  unexpected — when 
it's  good." 

"  Not  to  the  one  who  brings  it  about." 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
it?" 

"You  were  with  Hilliard  last  night." 

She  nodded  slightly.  "We  closed  our  negotiations 
for  the  copper-mine  last  night." 

212 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"How  did  you  come  out?" 

"  He  takes  it  over,  and  does  the  development 
work,"  she  answered. 

"  That  means  that  you  are  independent;  that  you  can 
leave  the  North  Country  and  do  all  the  things  you  want 
to  do  ? "  This  time  her  smile  was  puzzling.  "  You  don't 
seem  very  glad!" 

"  No !  Realization  discounts  anticipation  about  nine 
ty  per  cent. ;  but  don't  let's  talk  about  me.  I — I'm  un 
strung  to-day." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  aren't  going  back  to  Kalvik,"  he  said, 
with  genuine  regret. 

"But  I  am,"  she  declared,  quickly.  "I'm  going 
back  with  you  and  George  if  you  will  let  me.  I  want 
to  see  the  finish  of  our  enterprise." 

"  See  here,  Cherry,  I  hope  you  didn't  influence 
Hilliard  in  this  affair?" 

"Why  probe  the  matter?" 

"  Because  I  haven't  lost  all  my  manhood,"  he  an 
swered,  roughly.  "  Yesterday  you  assumed  the  blame 
for  this  trouble,  and  spoke  of  sacrifices — -and — well,  I 
don't  know  much  about  women;  but  for  all  I  know, 
you  may  have  some  ridiculous,  quixotic  strain  in  your 
make-up.  I  hope  you  didn't — " 

"What?" 

"  Well,  do  anything  you  may  be  sorry  for."  At  last 
he  detected  a  gleam  of  spirit  in  her  eyes. 

"  Suppose  I  did.  WThat  difference  to  you  would 
that  make?"  He  shifted  uncomfortably  under  her 
scrutiny. 

"  Suppose  that  Mr.  Hilliard  had  called  on  me  for  some 
great  sacrifice  before  he  gave  up  that  money.  Would 
you  allow  it  to  affect  you?" 

"Of  course,"  he  answered.  Then,  unable  to  sit  still 
213 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

under  her  searching  gaze,  he  arose  with  flushed  face, 
to  meet  further  discomfiture  as  she  continued: 

"Even  if  it  meant  your  own  ruin,  the  loss  of  the 
fortune  you  have  raised  among  your  friends — money 
that  is  entrusted  to  you — and — and  the  relinquish ment 
of  Miss  Wayland?  Honestly,  now"  —  her  voice  had 
softened  and  dropped  to  a  lower  key — "  would  it  make 
any  difference?" 

"Certainly!" 

"How  much  difference?" 

"  I'm  in  a  very  embarrassing  position,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  You  must  realize  that  with  others  depending  on  me 
I'm  not  free  to  follow  my  own  inclinations." 

She  uttered  a  little,  mocking  laugh.  "  Pardon  me. 
It  was  not  a  fair  question,  and  I  shouldn't  have  asked  it; 
but  your  hesitation  was  sufficient  answer."  Then,  as 
he  broke  into  a  heated  denial,  she  went  on : 

"  Like  most  men,  you  think  a  woman  has  but  one 
asset  upon  which  to  trade.  However,  if  I  felt  responsi 
ble  for  your  difficulties,  that  was  my  affair;  and  if  I 
determined  to  help  extricate  you,  that  also  concerned 
me  alone."  He  stepped  forward  as  if  to  protest,  but 
she  silenced  his  speech  with  an  imperious  little  stamp 
of  her  foot.  "This  spasm  of  righteousness  on  your 
part  is  only  temporary — yes  it  is" — as  he  attempted 
to  break  in — "  and  now  that  you  have  voiced  it  and 
freed  your  mind,  you  can  feel  at  rest.  Have  you  not 
repeatedly  asserted  that  to  win  Miss  Wayland  you 
would  use  any  means  that  offered  ?  You  are  not  really 
sincere  in  this  sudden  squeamishness,  and  I  would  like 
you  better  if  you  had  seized  your  advantage  at  once, 
without  stopping  to  consider  whence  or  how  it  came. 
That  would  have  been  primitive — elemental — and  every 
woman  loves  an  elemental  lover." 

214 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

He  was  no  subtle  casuist,  and  found  himself  without 
words  to  reply.  The  girl's  sharp  challenging  of  his 
motives  had  disconcerted  him  without  helping  him  to 
a  clearer  understanding  of  his  own  mind,  and  in  spite 
of  the  cheering  turn  his  fortunes  had  taken  it  was  in  no 
very  amiable  mood  that  he  left  her  at  last,  no  whit  the 
wiser  for  all  his  questioning.  In  the  hotel  lobby  below 
he  encountered  the  newspaper  reporter  who  had  fallen 
under  Eraser's  spell  upon  their  first  arrival  from,  the 
North.  The  man  greeted  him  eagerly. 

"  How  d'  y'  do,  Mr.  Emerson.  Can  you  give  me  any 
news  about  the  fisheries?" 

"No!" 

"  I  thought  there  might  be  something  new  bearing 
on  my  story." 

"  Indeed !  So  you  are  the  chap  who  wrote  that  article 
some  time  ago,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Good,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Doubtless,  from  the  newspaper  point  of  view. 
Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"From  Mr.  Clyde." 

"Clyde!  You  mean  Fraser  —  Frobisher,  I  should 
say." 

"  No,  sir.  Alton  Clyde !  He  was  pretty  talkative  the 
night  I  saw  him."  The  reporter  laughed,  meaningly. 

"Drunk,  do  you  mean?" 

"  Oh,  not  exactly  drunk,  but  pretty  wet.  He  knew 
what  he  was  saying,  however.  Can't  you  give  me 
something  more?" 

"  Nothing."  Boyd  hurried  to  his  hotel,  a  prey  to 
mingled  anger  and  contrition.  So  Fraser  had  told  the 
truth,  after  all,  and  with  a  kind  of  sullen  loyalty  had 
chosen  to  remain  under  a  cloud  himself  rather  than  in 
form  on  a  friend.  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
15  215 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

fellow's  peculiar  temperament.  As  it  happened,  Boyd 
found  the  two  men  together  and  lost  no  time  in  ac 
quainting  them  with  his  discovery. 

"I've  come  to  apologize  to  you,"  he  said  to  Fraser, 
who  grinned  broadly  and  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
abashment  which  stilled  his  tongue.  Emerson  turned 
to  Clyde.  "  Why  did  you  permit  me  to  do  this  in 
justice?" 

"  I — I  didn't  mean  to  give  out  any  secrets — I  don't 
remember  doing  it,"  Alton  apologized,  lamely.  "You 
know  I  can't  drink  much.  I  don't  remember  a  thing 
about  it,  honestly."  Boyd  regarded  him  coldly,  but 
the  young  man's  penitence  seemed  so  genuine,  he 
looked  so  weak,  so  pitifully  incompetent,  that  the 
other  lacked  heart  to  chastise  him.  It  requires  re 
sistance  to  develop  heat,  and  against  the  absence  of 
character  it  is  impossible  to  create  any  sort  of  emo 
tion. 

"  When  you  got  drunk  that  night  you  not  only  work 
ed  a  great  hardship  on  all  of  us,  but  afterward  you 
allowed  me  to  misjudge  a  very  faithful  man,"  declared 
Boyd.  "  Eraser's  ways  are  not  mine,  and  I  have  said 
harsh  things  to  him  when  my  temper  prompted ;  but  I 
am  not  ungrateful  for  the  service  he  has  done  me  and 
the  sacrifices  he  has  made.  Now,  Alton,  you  have 
chosen  to  join  us  in  a  desperate  venture,  and  the 
farther  we  go  the  more  vigorous  will  be  the  resistance 
we  shall  meet.  If  you  can't  keep  a  close  mouth,  and 
do  as  you  are  told,  you'd  better  go  back  to  Chicago. 
By  rare  good  luck  we  have  averted  this  disaster,  but  I 
have  no  hope  of  being  so  fortunate  again." 

"  Don't  climb  any  higher,"  admonished  "  Fingerless  " 
Fraser.  "  He's  all  fluffed  up  now.  I'll  lay  you  eight 
to  one  he  don't  make  another  break  of  the  kind." 

216 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  No,  I  was  so  com-cussed-pletely  pickled  that  I  for 
got  I  even  spoke  about  the  salmon-canning  business. 
I'll  break  my  corkscrew  and  seal  my  flask,  and  from 
this  moment  until  we  come  out  next  fall  the  demon  rum 
and  I  are  divorced.  Is  that  good  news?" 

"Everything  is  a  joke  to  you,  isn't  it?"  said  Boyd. 
"  If  this  trip  doesn't  make  a  man  of  you,  you'll  never 
grow  up.  Now  I've  got  work  for  all  of  us,  including 
you,  Fraser." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Go  down  to  the  freight-office  and  trace  a  shipment 
of  machinery,  while  I — ' 

"Nix!  That  ain't  my  line.  If  you  need  a  piece  of 
rough  money  quick,  why  I'll  take  my  gat  and  stick 
somebody  up  in  an  alley,  or  I'll  feel  out  a  safe  com 
bination  for  you  in  the  dark;  but  this  chaperoning 
freight  cars  ain't  my  game.  I'd  only  crab  it." 

"I  thought  you  wanted  to  help." 

"  I  do,  sure  I  do!  I'll  be  glad  when  you're  on  your 
way,  but  I  must  respectfully  duck  all  bills-of-lading 
and  shipping  receipts." 

"You  are  merely  lazy,"  Emerson  smiled.  "Never 
theless,  if  we  get  in  a  tight  place,  I'll  make  you  take  a 
hand  in  spite  of  yourself." 

"Any  time  you  need  me,"  cheerfully  volunteered 
the  other,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar.  "Only  don't  give 
me  child's  work." 

As  if  Milliard's  conversion  had  marked  the  turning- 
point  of  their  luck,  the  partners  now  entered  upon  a 
period  of  almost  uninterrupted  success.  In  the  re 
action  from  their  recent  discouragement  they  took  hold 
of  their  labors  with  fresh  energy,  and  fortune  aided 
them  in  unexpected  ways.  Boyd  signed  his  charter, 
securing  a  tramp  steamer  then  discharging  at  Tacoma ; 

217 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Bait  closed  his  contracts  for  Chinese  labor,  and  the 
scattered  car-loads  of  material,  which  had  been  lost 
en  route  or  mysteriously  laid  out  on  sidings,  began  to 
come  in  as  if  of  their  own  accord.  Those  supplies 
which  had  been  denied  them  they  found  in  unexpected 
quarters  close  at  hand;  and  almost  before  they  were 
aware  of  it  The  Bedford  Castle  had  finished  unloading 
and  was  coaling  at  the  bunkers. 

A  brigade  of  Orientals  and  a  miniature  army  of 
fishermen  had  appeared  as  if  by  magic,  and  were 
quartered  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city  awaiting  ship 
ment.  Boyd  and  Big  George  worked  unceasingly  in 
the  midst  of  a  maelstrom  of  confusion,  the  centre  of 
which  was  the  dock.  There,  one  throbbing  April 
evening,  The  Bedford  Castle  berthed,  ready  to  receive 
her  cargo,  and  the  two  men  made  their  way  toward 
their  hotel,  weary,  but  glowing  with  the  grateful  sense 
of  an  arduous  duty  well  performed.  The  following 
morning  would  find  the  wharf  swarming  with  stevedores 
and  echoing  to  the  rattle  of  trucks,  the  clank  of  hoists, 
and  the  shrill  whistles  of  the  signalmen. 

"  Looks  like  they  couldn't  stop  us  now,"  said  Bait. 

"  It  does,"  agreed  Emerson.  "We  ought  to  clear  in 
four  days — that  '11  be  the  i5th." 

"It  smells  like  an  early  spring,  too,"  the  fisherman 
observed,  sniffing  the  air.  "  If  it  is,  we'll  be  in  Kalvik 
the  first  week  in  May." 

"  Is  your  sense  of  smell  sharp  enough  to  tell  what's 
happening  up  there?" 

"Sure." 

"Suppose  it's  a  backward  season?" 

"Then  we'll  lay  in  the  ice  alongside  the  Company 
boats  till  she  breaks.  That  may  be  in  June." 

"  I  would  like  to  get  in  early,  and  have  the  buildings 
218 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

started  before  Marsh  arrives.     There's  no  telling  what 
he  may  try." 

George  gave  his  companion  a  short  nod.  "And 
there  ain't  no  telling  what  we  may  try  right  back  at 
him.  Anyhow,  he'll  have  to  fight  in  the  open,  and 
that's  better  than  this  shadow-boxing  that  we've  been 
doing." 

"I'm  off  to  tell  Cherry,"  said  Boyd.  "She'll  need 
to  be  getting  ready." 

His  course  took  him  past  Hilliard's  bank,  and  when 
abreast  of  it  he  nearly  collided  with  a  man  who  came 
hurrying  forth,  an  angry  scowl  between  his  eyes  giv 
ing  evidence  of  a  surly  humor.  In  the  well-groomed, 
fiery-haired,  plump-figured  man  who,  absorbed  in  his 
own  anger,  was  rushing  by  without  raising  his  eyes, 
Emerson  recognized  the  manager  of  the  North  Ameri 
can  Packers'  Association. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Marsh." 

Marsh  whirled  about.  "Eh?  Ah!"  With  a  visible 
effort  he  smoothed  the  lines  from  his  brow ;  his  full  lips 
lost  their  angry  pout,  and  he  showed  his  teeth  in  a 
startled,  apprehensive  smile. 

"Why,  yes  —  it's  Emerson.  How  are  you,  Mr. 
Emerson?"  He  extended  a  soft  hand,  which  Boyd 
took.  Apparently  reassured  by  this  mute  response, 
Marsh  continued:  "I  heard  you  were  in  town.  How 
is  the  new  cannery  coming  on?" 

"  Nicely,  thank  you.  When  did  you  arrive  from  the 
East?" 

"  I  just  got  in.  Haven't  had  time  to  get  straight 
ened  out  yet.  We — Mr.  Wayland  and  I — were  speak 
ing  of  you  before  I  left  Chicago.  We  were — somewhat 
surprised  to  learn  that  you  were  engaging  in  the  same 
line  of  business  as  ourselves." 

219 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Doubtless." 

"  I  told  him  there  was  room  for  us  all." 

"You  did?" 

"Yes!  I  assured  him  that  his  resentment  was 
unwarranted." 

"  He  resents  something,  does  he  ?" 

"Well,  naturally,"  Marsh  declared,  with  a  wintry 
smile.  "  In  view  of  the  circumstances  I  may  truthfully 
say  that  his  feelings  embrace  not  only  a  sense  of  re 
sentment,  but  the  firmly  fixed  idea  that  he  has  been 
betrayed — however,  you  are  no  doubt  aware  of  all  that. 
You  have  an  able  champion  on  the  ground."  He 
looked  out  across  the  street  abstractedly.  "Miss 
Wayland  and  I  did  our  utmost  to  convince  him  you 
merely  took  a  legitimate  commercial  advantage  in 
dining  at  his  house  the  night  before  you  left." 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  take  my  part,"  said  Boyd, 
with  such  an  air  of  simple  cordiality  that  Marsh  shot  a 
startled  glance  at  him.  "  Now  that  we  are  to  be 
neighbors  this  summer,  I  hope  we  will  get  well  ac 
quainted,  for  Mr.  Wayland  spoke  highly  of  you,  and 
strongly  advised  me  to  pattern  after  you." 

Marsh  hid  his  bewilderment  behind  an  expression 
which  he  strove  to  make  as  friendly  as  Emerson's  own. 
"I  understand  you  are  banking  here,"  he  said,  jerking 
his  head  toward  the  building  at  his  back. 

"  Yes.  I  was  offered  a  number  of  propositions,  but 
Mr.  Hilliard  was  so  insistent  and  made  such  substantial 
inducements  that  I  finally  placed  the  business  with 
him." 

The  animosity  that  glimmered  for  one  fleeting  in 
stant  in  Marsh's  eyes  amused  Boyd  greatly,  advertis 
ing  as  it  did,  that  for  once  the  Trust's  executive  felt 
himself  at  a  disadvantage.  The  younger  man  never 

220 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

doubted  for  an  instant  that  his  coup  in  securing  Hil- 
liard's  assistance  at  the  eleventh  hour  was  responsi 
ble  for  his  enemy's  sudden  appearance  from  cover,  nor 
that  the  arrival  of  The  Bedford  Castle  had  brought 
Marsh  to  the  banker's  office  out  of  hours  in  final  despera 
tion.  From  the  man's  bearing  he  judged  that  the  inter 
view  had  not  been  as  placid  as  a  spring  morning,  and 
this  awoke  in  him  not  only  a  keen  sense  of  elation  but 
the  very  natural  desire  to  goad  his  opponent. 

"  All  in  all,  we  have  been  singularly  fortunate  in  our 
enterprise  thus  far,"  he  continued,  smoothly.  "We 
were  held  up  on  some  of  our  machinery,  but  in  every 
instance  the  delay  turned  out  a  blessing  in  disguise, 
for  it  enabled  us  to  buy  in  other  quarters  at  a  saving." 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it,"  Marsh  declared.  "  When 
do  you  sail?" 

"Immediately.     We  begin  to  load  to-morrow." 

"I  have  changed  my  plans  somewhat,"  the  other 
announced.  "I'll  follow  your  tracks  before  long." 

"What  is  your  hurry?" 

"  Repairs.  Kalvik  is  our  most  important  station, 
so  I  want  to  get  it  in  first-class  shape  before  Mr.  Way- 
land  and  Mildred  arrive." 

"  Mildred ! "  ejaculated  Boyd,  surprised  past  resenting 
Marsh's  use  of  the  girl's  first  name.  "  Is  she  coming  ? " 

The  other's  smile  was  peculiarly  irritating. 

"Oh,  indeed  yes!  We  expect  to  make  the  trip 
quite  an  elaborate  excursion.  Sorry  I  can't  ask  you  to 
join  us  on  the  homeward  voyage,  but — "  he  shrugged 
his  fat  shoulders.  "  Run  in  and  see  me  before  you 
leave.  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  some  pointers." 

"Thank  you.  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  the  summer  up 
there  in  the  wilderness.  It  will  be  a  relief  to  get  away 
from  all  conventions  and  restraints." 

221 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

The  men  extended  their  hands  and  the  Trust's  man 
ager  said,  in  final  invitation,  "  Drop  in  on  me  any  day  at 
the  office.  I'm  at  the  National  Building." 

"Oh,  you've  moved,  eh?"  said  Boyd,  with  a  sem 
blance  of  careless  interest. 

"Moved?     No!" 

"Indeed!  I  thought  you  were  still  at  610,  Hotel 
Buller."  With  a  short  laugh  and  a  casual  gesture  of 
adieu  he  turned,  leaving  the  manager  of  the  Trust 
staring  after  him,  an  astonished  pucker  upon  his 
womanish  mouth,  a  vindictive  glare  in  his  eyes.  Not 
until  his  rival  had  turned  the  corner  did  Willis  Marsh 
remove  his  gaze.  Then  he  found  that  he  was  trembling 
as  if  from  weakness. 

"The  ruffian!"  He  reached  into  his  pocket  and 
produced  a  gold  cigarette-case,  repeatedly  snapping 
the  heavy  sides  together  with  vicious  force.  When 
he  attempted  to  light  a  match  it  broke  in  his  fingers, 
then  in  a  temper  he  threw  the  cigarette  from  him  and 
hurried  away,  his  plump  face  working,  his  lips  drawn 
into  a  spiteful  fold. 

For  the  first  time  in  a  fortnight  Boyd  allowed  him 
self  the  luxury  of  a  long  sleep,  and  a  late  breakfast  on 
the  following  morning.  But  the  meal  came  to  an 
abrupt  conclusion  when  Bait,  who  always  arose  with 
the  sun,  rushed  in  upon  him  and  exclaimed: 

"Hey!  come  on  down  to  the  dock,  quick.  There's 
hell  to  pay!" 

"What's  up  now?" 

"  Strike!  The  longshoremen  have  walked  out  on  us. 
I  was  on  hand  early  to  oversee  the  loading,  but  the 
whole  mob  refused  to  commence.  There's  some  union 
trouble  because  The  Bedford  Castle  discharged  her  cargo 
with  scab  labor." 

222 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"In  Tacoma?" 

"No.     In  Frisco;  next  to  her  last  trip." 

"Why,  that's  ridiculous!  What  does  Captain  Peas- 
ley  say?" 

"  He  says —  I'll  have  to  wait  till  we're  outside  be 
fore  I  can  repeat  what  he  says." 

Together  the  two  hurried  to  the  water-front  to  find 
a  crowd  of  surly  stevedores  loafing  about  the  dock, 
and  an  English  sea-captain  at  breakfast  in  his  cabin, 
his  attention  divided  equally  between  toast,  tea,  mar 
malade  and  profanity. 

"The  beggars  are  mad,  absolutely  mad,"  declared 
the  Captain.  "  I  can't  understand  it.  I'm  still  in  my 
bed  when  I'm  aroused  by  an  insolent  loafer  who  calls 
himself  a  walking  delegate  and  tells  me  his  union  won't 
load  me  until  I  pay  some  absurd  sum." 

"What  did  you  tell  him?"  inquired  Emerson. 

"What  did  I  tell  him?"  Captain  Peasley  laid  down 
his  knife  gently  and  wiped  the  tea  from  his  drooping 
mustache,  then  squared  about  in  his  seat.  "  Here's 
what  I  told  him  as  near  as  my  memory  serves." 
Whereupon  he  broke  into  a  tornado  of  nautical  pro 
fanity  so  picturesquely  British  in  its  figures,  and  so 
whole-souled  in  its  vigor,  that  his  auditors  could  not 
but  smile.  "Then  I  bashed  him  with  my  boot,  and 
bloody  well  pursued  him  over  the  rail.  Two  thousand 
dollars!  Sweet  mother  of  Queen  Anne!  Wouldn't  I 
look  well,  now,  handing  four  hundred  pounds  over  to 
those  highbinders?  My  owners  would  hang  me." 

"So  they  demand  two  thousand  dollars!" 

"Yes!  Just  because  of  some  bally  rot  about  who 
may  and  who  may  not  work  for  a  living  on  the  docks 
at  Frisco." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 
223 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"I'm  going  to  make  a  swimming  delegate  out  of  the 
next  walking  emissary  that  boards  me.  Two  thousand 
dollars!"  He  hid  half  a  slice  of  toast  behind  his  mus 
tache  and  stirred  his  tea  violently. 

"It's  Marsh  again,"  said  Big  George. 

"I  dare  say,"  Emerson  answered.  "It's  a  hold-up 
pure  and  simple.  However,  if  ships  can  be  unloaded 
with  non-union  labor  they  can  be  loaded  in  the  same 
manner,  and  Captain  Peasley  talks  like  a  man  who 
would  like  to  have  the  argument  out.  I  want  you  to 
stay  here  and  watch  our  freight  while  I  see  the  head 
of  the  union." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A    NEW    ENEMY    APPEARS 

WHEN  Boyd  returned  some  two  hours  later  he 
found  the  dock  deserted  save  for  Big  George, 
who  prowled  watchfully  about  the  freight  piles. 

"Well,  did  you  fix  it  up?"  the  fisherman  inquired. 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Boyd.  "  It's  a  rank  frame-up,  and 
I  refused  to  be  bled." 

"Good  for  you." 

"There  are  some  things  a  fellow's  manhood  won't 
stand  for.  I'll  carry  that  freight  aboard  with  my  own 
hands  before  I'll  be  robbed  by  a  labor  union  at  the 
bidding  of  Willis  Marsh." 

"Say!  Will  you  let  me  load  this  ship  my  way?" 
George  asked. 

"Can  you  do  it?" 

Bait's  thick  lips  drew  back  from  his  yellow  teeth  in 
that  smile  which  Emerson  had  come  to  recognize  as  a 
harbinger  of  the  violent  acts  that  rejoiced  his  lawless 
soul. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  with  a  chuckle.  "  Down  the  street 
yonder  I've  got  a  hundred  fishermen.  Half  of  them 
are  drunk  at  this  minute,  and  the  rest  are  half  drunk." 

"Then  they  are  of  no  use  to  us." 

"  I  don't  reckon  you  ever  seen  a  herd  of  Kalvik 
fishermen  out  of  a  job,  did  you?  Well,  there's  just 
two  things  they  know,  fishing  and  fighting,  and  this 

225 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

ain't  the  fishing  season.  When  they  hit  Seattle,  the 
police  force  goes  up  into  the  residence  section  and 
stuffs  cotton  in  its  ears,  because  the  only  thing  that 
is  strong  enough  to  stand  between  a  uniform  and  a 
fisherman  is  a  hill." 

"Can  you  induce  them  to  work?" 

"I  can.  All  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  I  can't  induce 
them  to  quit.  They're  liable  to  put  this  freight  aboard 
The  Bedford  Castle,  and  then  pull  down  the  dock  in  a 
spirit  of  playfulness  and  pile  it  in  Captain  Peasley's 
cabin.  There  ain't  no  convulsion  of  nature  that's  equal 
to  a  gang  of  idle  fishermen." 

"When  can  they  begin?" 

"Well,  it  will  take  me  all  night  to  round  them  up, 
and  I'll  have  to  lick  four  or  five,  but  there  ought  to  be 
a  dozen  or  two  on  hand  in  the  morning."  George  cast 
a  roving  eye  over  the  warehouse  from  the  heavy  plank 
ing  under  foot  to  the  wide-spanning  rafters  above. 
"Yes,"  he  concluded,  "I  don't  see  nothing  breakable, 
so  I  guess  it's  safe." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  go  with  you?" 

The  giant  considered  him  speculatively.  "I  don't 
think  so.  I  ain't  never  seen  you  in  action.  No,  you 
better  stay  here  and  arrange  to  guard  this  stuff  till 
morning.  I'll  do  the  rest." 

Boyd  did  not  see  him  again  that  day,  nor  at  the 
hotel  during  the  evening,  but  on  the  following  morning, 
true  to  his  word,  the  big  fellow  walked  into  the  ware 
house  followed  by  a  score  or  more  of  fishermen.  At 
first  sight  there  was  nothing  imposing  about  these  men : 
they  were  rough-garbed  and  unkempt,  in  the  main; 
but  upon  closer  observation  Boyd  noticed  that  they 
were  thick-chested  and  broad-shouldered,  and  walked 
with  the  swinging  gait  that  comes  from  heaving  decks. 

226 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

While  the  majority  of  them  were  neither  distinctly 
American  nor  markedly  foreign  in  appearance,  being 
rather  of  that  composite  caste  that  peoples  the  outer 
reaches  of  the  far  West,  they  were  all  deeply  browned 
by  sun  and  weather,  and  spoke  the  universal  idiom  of 
the  sea.  There  were  men  here  from  Finland  and  Flor 
ida,  Portugal  and  Maine,  fused  into  one  nondescript 
type  by  the  melting-pot  of  the  frontier.  Some  wore 
the  northern  mackinaw  in  spite  of  the  balmy  April 
morning,  others  were  dressed  like  ranch  hands  on  cir 
cus  day,  and  a  few  with  the  ornateness  of  Butte  miners 
on  parade. 

Certain  ones  displayed  fresh  contusions  on  cheek  and 
jaw,  or  peered  forth  from  lately  blackened  eyes,  and 
these,  Boyd  noticed,  invariably  fawned  upon  Big 
George  or  treated  him  with  elephantine  playfulness, 
winking  swollen  lids  at  him  in  a  mysterious  under 
standing  which  puzzled  the  young  man,  until  he  saw 
that  Bait  himself  bore  similar  signs  of  strife.  The 
big  man's  lips  were  cut,  while  back  of  one  ear  a  knot 
had  sprung  up  over  night  like  a  fungus. 

They  fell  to  work  quickly,  stripping  themselves  to 
their  undershirts;  they  manned  the  hoists,  seized  trucks 
and  bale-hooks,  and  began  their  tasks  with  a  thoroughly 
non-union  energy.  Some  of  them  were  still  so  drunk 
that  they  staggered,  their  awkwardness  affording  huge 
sport  to  their  companions,  yet  even  in  their  intoxica 
tion  they  were  surprisingly  capable.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  laughter  and  disorder  on  every  hand,  and  all 
made  frequent  trips  to  the  water-taps,  returning  adrip 
to  the  waist,  their  hair  and  beards  bejewelled  with 
drops.  Boyd  saw  one,  a  well -dressed  fellow  in  a 
checked  suit,  remove  his  clothes  and  hang  them  care 
fully  upon  a  nail,  then  painfully  unlace  his  patent- 

227 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

leather  shoes,  after  which,  regardless  of  the  litter  under 
foot  and  the  splinters  in  the  floor,  he  tramped  about  in 
bare  feet  and  red  underwear.  Without  exception,  they 
seemed  possessed  by  the  spirit  of  boys  at  play.  Hav 
ing  seen  them  well  under  way  and  the  winches  working, 
George  sought  out  Boyd  and  proudly  inquired: 

"What  do  you  think  of  them,  eh?" 

"They  are  splendid.     But  where  are  the  others?" 

"Well,  there  are  two  or  three  that  won't  be  able 
to  get  around  at  all."  He  meditatively  stroked  the 
knuckles  of  his  right  hand,  which  were  badly  bruised. 
"But  the  balance  will  be  here  to-morrow.  These  are 
just  the  mildest-mannered  ones — the  family  men,  you 
might  say.  The  others  will  show  up  gradual.  You 
see,  if  there  had  been  any  righting  going  on  here,  I'd 
have  got  most  of  them  right  off  the  bat,  but  there 
wasn't  any  inducement  to  offer  except  hard  work,  so 
they  wasn't  quite  so  anxious  to  commence." 

"  Humph !  There  ought  to  be  enough  excitement 
before  long  to  satisfy  any  one,"  said  Boyd,  with  a  trace 
of  worry  in  his  voice. 

"As  sure  as  you're  a  foot  high!"  exclaimed  George, 
hopefully.  "  It's  the  only  way  we'll  get  that  ship 
loaded  on  time.  All  we  need  is  a  riot  or  two." 

A  man  passed  them  trundling  a  heavy  truck,  but 
seeing  Big  George,  he  paused,  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
face,  then  grinned  and  winked  fraternally. 

"  Hey!  If  this  work  is  too  heavy  for  you,  why  don't 
you  quit?"  growled  Bait,  but  strangely  enough  the 
fellow  took  no  offence.  Instead,  he  closed  his  swollen 
eye  for  a  second  time,  then  spat  upon  his  hands,  and, 
as  he  struggled  with  his  burden,  grunted  pleasantly: 

"  I  pretty  near — got  you,  Georgie.  If  you  hadn't 
'a'  ducked,  we'd  'a'  been  at  it  yet,  eh?" 

228 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Bait  smiled  in  turn,  then  gingerly  felt  of  the  knob 
behind  his  ear. 

"  Did  you  have  a  fight  with  him?"  queried  Emerson. 

"  Not  exactly  a  fight,  but  he  put  this  nubbin  on 
my  conch,"  answered  the  fisherman.  "He's  a  tough 
proposition,  one  of  the  best  we've  got." 

"What  was  the  trouble?" 

"Nothing!  I  used  to  have  to  lick  him  every  year. 
We've  sort  of  missed  each  other  lately." 

"Then  you  were  merely  renewing  a  pleasant  ac 
quaintance?"  laughed  the  younger  man.  "  He  hit  you 
in  the  mouth  too,  I  see." 

"  No,  I  got  that  from  a  stranger.  I  was  bedding  him 
down  when  he  kicked  me  with  his  boot.  He  ain't  here 
this  morning." 

"  If  I  were  you,  I'd  go  up  to  the  hotel  and  get  some 
sleep,"  Boyd  advised.  "I'll  oversee  things." 

George  hesitated.  "  I  don't  know  if  I'd  better  go  or 
not.  They've  all  got  hang-overs,  and  they're  liable  to 
bu'st  out  any  minute  if  you  don't  watch  them.  They 
ain't  vicious,  understand ;  they  just  like  to  frolic  around." 

"I'll  watch  them." 

After  a  contemplative  glance  at  his  companion's 
well-knit  figure,  Bait  gave  in,  with  the  final  caution: 
"  Don't  let  them  get  the  upper  hand,  or  there  won't 
be  no  living  with  them." 

After  his  departure,  Boyd  was  not  long  in  learning 
the  cause  of  his  hesitancy,  for  no  sooner  did  the  men 
realize  the  change  in  authority  over  them  than  they 
undertook  to  feel  out  the  mettle  of  their  new  foreman. 
Directly  one  of  them  approached  him,  with  the  demand : 

"Get  us  a  drink,  boss;  we're  thirsty." 

"There  is  the  water-tap,"  said  Emerson.  "Help 
yourself." 

229 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Go  on!  We  don't  want  water.  Rustle  up  a  keg 
of  beer,  will  you?" 

"Nothing  doing." 

He  turned  back  to  his  task,  but  a  moment  later  Boyd 
saw  him  making  for  the  shore  end  of  the  dock,  and 
with  a  few  strides  placed  himself  in  his  path. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"After  a  drink,  of  course." 

"  You  want  to  quit,  eh  ? " 

The  man  eyed  him  for  an  instant,  then  answered: 
"No!  The  job's  all  right,  but  I'm  thirsty." 

Those  working  near  ceased  their  labors  and  gathered 
around,  whereupon  their  companion  addressed  them. 

"Say!  It's  a  great  note  when  a  fellow  can't  have  a 
drink.  Come  on,  boys,  I'll  set  'em  up."  There  was  a 
general  laugh  and  a  forward  movement  of  all  within 
hearing,  which  Boyd  checked  with  a  rough  command. 

"  Get  back  to  work,  all  of  you."  But  the  spokesman, 
disregarding  his  words,  attempted  to  pass,  whereupon 
without  warning  Boyd  knocked  him  down  with  a  clean 
blow  to  the  face.  At  this  the  others  yelled  and  rushed 
forward,  only  to  be  met  by  their  foreman,  who  had 
snatched  a  bale-hook.  It  was  an  ugly  weapon,  and  he 
used  it  so  viciously  that  they  quickly  gave  him  room. 

"  Now  get  to  work,"  he  ordered,  quietly.  "  You  can 
quit  if  you  want  to,  but  I'll  lay  out  the  first  fellow  that 
goes  after  a  drink.  Make  up  your  minds  what  you 
want  to  do.  Quick!" 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then,  with  the 
absurd  vagary  of  a  crowd,  they  broke  into  loud  laughter 
and  slouched  back  to  work,  two  of  them  dragging  the 
cause  of  the  outburst  to  the  water-faucet,  where  they 
held  his  head  under  the  stream  until  he  began  to  sputter 
and  squirm.  Before  those  at  the  gangway  had  noticed 

230 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  disturbance  it  was  all  over,  and  thereafter  Boyd 
experienced  no  trouble.  On  the  contrary,  they  worked 
the  better  for  his  proof  of  authority,  and  took  him  into 
their  fellowship  as  if  he  had  qualified  to  their  entire 
satisfaction.  Even  the  man  he  had  struck  seemed  to 
share  in  the  general  respect  rather  than  to  cherish  the 
least  ill-feeling.  The  respite  was  brief,  however,  for 
the  work  had  not  continued  many  hours  before  a 
stranger  made  his  way  quietly  in  upon  the  dock  and 
began  to  argue  with  the  first  fisherman  he  met.  Boyd 
discovered  him  quickly,  and,  approaching  him,  de 
manded  : 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  new-comer. 

"Then  get  out." 

"What  for?     I'm  just  talking  to  this  man." 

"  I  can't  allow  any  talking  here.  Hurry  up  and  get 
out." 

"This  is  a  free  country.     I  ain't  hurting  you." 

"Will  you  go?" 

"Say!  You  can't  load  that  cargo  this  way,"  the 
man  began,  threateningly.  "  And  you  can't  make  me 
go—" 

At  which  Emerson  seized  him  by  the  collar  and 
quickly  disproved  the  assertion,  to  the  great  delight  of 
the  fishermen.  He  marched  his  prisoner  to  the  dock 
entrance  and  thrust  him  out  into  the  street  with  the 
warning:  "  Don't  you  let  me  catch  you  in  here  again." 

"  I'm  a  union  man  and  you  can't  load  that  ship  with 
1  scabs!'"  The  stranger  swore  as  he  slunk  off.  "  You'll 
be  sorry  for  this."  But  Boyd  motioned  him  away  and 
summoned  two  of  his  men  to  stand  guard  with  him. 

All  that  morning  the  three  held  their  posts,  refusing 
to  admit  any  one  who  did  not  have  business  within,  the 
16  231 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

while  a  considerable  crowd  assembled  in  the  street. 
The  first  actual  violence,  however,  occurred  when  the 
fishermen  knocked  off  for  the  noon  hour.  Sensing  the 
storm  about  to  break,  Boyd  called  up  the  Police  De 
partment  from  the  dock  -  office,  then  summoned  Big 
George,  who  appeared  in  quick  time.  It  was  with 
considerable  difficulty  that  the  non-union  crew  fought 
its  way  back  to  resume  work  at  one  o'clock. 

During  the  afternoon  the  strikers  made  several  at 
tempts  to  enter  the  dock- shed,  and  it  required  a  firm 
stand  by  the  guards  to  restrain  them.  These  growing 
signs  of  excitement  pleased  the  fishermen  intensely, 
and  at  each  advance  of  the  crowd  it  became  as  great  a 
task  to  hold  them  back  as  it  was  to  check  the  union 
forces.  During  one  of  these  disturbances  Captain 
Peasley  made  his  way  shoreward  from  the  ship  to  scan 
the  scene,  and  the  sight  of  his  uniform  excited  the  ire 
of  the  strikers  afresh.  After  a  glance  over  the  mob, 
he  remarked  to  Emerson: 

"  Bli'me !  It  looks  like  a  bloody  riot  already,  doesn't 
it?  Four  hundred  pounds  to  those  dock  wallopers! 
Huh!  You  know  if  I  allowed  them  to  bleed  me  that 
way — " 

At  that  instant,  from  some  quarter,  a  railroad  spike 
whizzed  past  the  Captain's  head,  banging  against  the 
boards  behind  him  with  such  a  thump  that  the  dignified 
Englishman  ducked  quickly  amid  a  shout  of  derision. 
He  began  to  curse  them  roundly  in  his  own  particular 
style. 

"You'd  better  keep  under  cover,  Captain,"  advised 
Emerson.  "They  don't  seem  to  care  for  you." 

"So  it  would  appear,"  he  agised.  "They're  getting 
nawsty,  aren't  they?  I  hope  it  doesn't  lawst." 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  does,"  said  George  Bait.  "  If  they'll 
232 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

only  keep  at  it  and  beat  up  some  of  our  boys  at  quit- 
ting-time  the  whole  gang  will  be  here  in  the  morning." 

It  seemed  that  his  wishes  bade  fair  to  be  realized,  for, 
as  the  day  wore  on,  instead  of  diminishing,  the  excite 
ment  increased.  By  evening  it  became  so  menacing 
that  Boyd  was  forced  to  send  in  an  urgent  demand  for 
a  squadron  of  bluecoats  to  escort  his  men  to  their 
lodgings,  and  it  was  only  by  the  most  vigorous  efforts 
that  a  serious  clash  was  averted.  Nor  was  this  task 
the  easier  since  it  did  not  meet  with  the  approval  of  the 
fishermen  themselves,  who  keenly  resented  protection 
of  any  sort. 

True  to  George's  prediction,  the  next  morning  found 
the  non  union  men  out  in  such  force  that  they  were 
divided  into  a  night  and  a  day  crew,  half  of  them  being 
sent  back  to  report  later,  while  among  the  mountains 
of  freight  the  work  went  forward  faster  than  ever. 
But  the  night  had  served  to  point  the  anger  of  the 
strikers,  and  the  dock  owners,  becoming  alarmed  for 
the  safety  of  their  property,  joined  with  Emerson  in 
establishing  a  force  of  a  dozen  able-bodied  guards, 
armed  with  clubs,  to  assist  the  police  in  disputing  the 
shore  line  with  the  rioters.  The  police  themselves 
had  proved  ineffective,  even  betraying  a  half-hearted 
sympathy  with  the  union  men,  who  were  not  slow  to 
profit  by  it.  Even  so,  the  day  passed  rather  quietly,  as 
did  the  next.  But  in  time  the  agitation  became  so 
general  as  to  paralyze  a  wide  section  of  the  water- front, 
and  the  city  awoke  to  the  realization  that  a  serious 
conflict  was  in  progress.  The  handful  of  fishermen,  hid 
den  under  the  roof  of  the  great  warehouse,  outnum 
bered  twenty  to  one,  and  guarded  only  by  a  thin  line 
of  pickets,  became  a  centre  of  general  interest. 

As  the  violence  of  the  mob,  stimulated  rather  than 
2.33 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

checked  by  the  indifference  of  the  police,  became  more 
openly  daring,  so  likewise  did  the  reprisals  of  the 
fishermen,  goaded  now  to  a  stubborn  rage.  They 
would  not  hear  to  having  their  food  brought  to  them, 
but  insisted  daily  on  emerging  in  a  body  at  noon  and 
spending  the  hour  in  combat.  Not  to  speak  of  the 
physical  disabilities  they  incurred  in  these  affrays,  the 
excitement  distracted  them  and  affected  their  work 
disastrously,  to  the  great  concern  of  their  employer. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  day  that  Boyd  espied  the  man 
in  the  gray  suit  among  the  strikers  and  pointed  him 
out  to  his  three  companions,  Clyde  and  Fraser  having 
joined  him  and  George  in  a  spirit  of  curiosity.  Clyde 
was  for  immediately  executing  a  sally  to  capture  the 
fellow,  explaining  that  once  they  had  him  inside  the 
dock-house  they  could  beat  him  until  he  confessed  that 
Marsh  was  behind  the  strike,  but  his  valor  shrank 
amazingly  when  Fraser  maliciously  suggested  that  he 
himself  lead  the  dash. 

"No!"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm  not  a  fighting  man, 
but  I'm  a  good  general.  You  know,  Napoleon  was 
about  my  size." 

"  I  never  noticed  the  resemblance,"  remarked  Fraser. 

"All  the  same,  your  idea  ain't  so  bad,"  said  Bait. 
"There's  somebody  stirring  those  fellows  up,  and  I 
think  it's  that  detective.  I  wouldn't  mind  getting  my 
hands  on  him,  and  if  you'll  all  stick  with  me  I'll  go  out 
after  him." 

"  Not  for  mine,"  hastily  declared  ' '  Fingerless  "  Fraser. 
"  I  don't  want  to  fight  anybody.  I'm  here  as  a  spec 
tator." 

"You're  not  afraid?"  questioned  Emerson. 

"  Not  exactly  afraid,  but  what's  the  use  of  my 
getting  mixed  up  in  this  row  ?  It  ain't  my  cannery." 

234 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Now,  while  a  mob  is  by  nature  noisy  and  threatening, 
there  is  little  real  danger  in  it  until  its  diffusive  violence 
is  directed  into  one  channel  by  a  leader.  Then,  in 
deed,  it  becomes  a  terrible  thing,  and  to  the  watchers 
at  the  dock  it  became  evident,  in  time,  that  a  guiding 
influence  was  at  work  among  their  enemies.  Sure 
enough,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day,  without 
a  moment's  warning,  the  strikers  rushed  in  a  body, 
bearing  down  the  guards  like  reeds.  They  came  so 
unexpectedly  that  there  was  no  time  to  muster  rein 
forcements  at  the  gate;  almost  before  the  fishermen 
could  drop  their  tasks,  their  enemies  were  inside  the 
building  and  pandemonium  had  broken  loose.  The 
structure  rocked  to  the  tumult  of  pounding  heels,  of 
yells  and  imprecations,  the  lofty  roof  serving  to  toss 
back  and  magnify  the  uproar. 

Emerson  and  his  companions  found  themselves 
carried  away  before  the  onslaught  like  chips  in  the 
surf,  then  sucked  into  a  maelstrom  where  the  first  duty 
was  self-preservation.  Behind  locked  doors  and  shiver 
ing  glass  a  terrified  office  -  clerk,  receiver  to  ear,  was 
calling  madly  for  Police  Headquarters,  while  in  the 
main  building  itself  the  crowd  bellowed  and  roared 
and  the  hollow  floor  reverberated  to  the  thunder  of 
trampling  feet  and  the  crash  of  tumbling  freight-piles. 

Boyd  succeeded  in  keeping  his  footing  and  event 
ually  fought  his  way  to  a  backing  of  crated  machinery, 
where  he  stooped  and  ripped  a  cleat  loose;  then,  laying 
about  him  with  this  weapon,  he  cleared  a  space.  It 
was  already  difficult  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe,  but 
he  saw  Alton  Clyde  go  down  a  short  distance  away 
and  made  a  rush  to  rescue  him.  His  pine  slat  splin 
tered  against  a  head,  he  dodged  a  missile,  then  struck 
with  the  fragment  in  his  hand,  and,  snatching  Clyde  by 

235 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  arm,  dragged  him  out  from  under  foot.  Battered 
and  bruised,  the  two  won  back  to  Emerson's  first  posi 
tion,  and  watched  the  tide  surge  past. 

At  the  first  alarm  the  fishermen  had  armed  them 
selves  with  bale-hooks  and  bludgeons,  and  for  a  time 
worked  havoc  among  their  assailants;  but  as  the  fight 
became  more  general  they  were  forced  apart  and  drawn 
into  the  crowd,  whereupon  the  combatants  split  up  into 
groups,  milling,  about  like  frightened  cattle.  Men 
broke  out  from  these  struggling  clusters  to  nurse  their 
injuries  or  beat  a  retreat,  only  to  be  overrun  and 
swallowed  up  again  in  a  new  commotion. 

Emerson  saw  the  big,  barefooted  fisherman  in  the 
red  underclothes,  armed  with  a  sledge-hammer,  go 
through  the  ranks  of  his  enemies  like  a  tornado,  only 
to  be  struck  by  some  missile  hurled  from  a  distance. 
With  a  shout  of  rage  the  fellow  turned  and  flung  his 
own  weapon  at  his  assailant,  felling  him  like  an  ox, 
then  he  in  turn  was  blotted  out  by  a  surge  of  rioters. 
But  there  was  little  time  for  observation,  as  the  scene 
was  changing  with  kaleidoscopic  rapidity  and  there 
was  the  ever-present  necessity  of  self -protection.  See 
ing  Clyde's  helpless  condition,  Emerson  shouted: 

"Come  on!  I'll  help  you  aboard  the  ship."  He 
found  a  hardwood  club  beneath  his  feet — one  of  those 
cudgels  that  are  used  in  pounding  rope-slings  and 
hawsers — and  with  it  cleared  a  pathway  for  Clyde  and 
himself.  But  while  still  at  a  distance  from  the  ship's 
gangway,  he  suddenly  spied  the  man  in  the  gray  suit, 
who  had  climbed  upon  one  of  the  freight-piles,  whence 
he  was  scanning  the  crowd.  The  man  likewise  rec 
ognized  Emerson,  and  pointed  him  out,  crying  some 
thing  unintelligible  in  the  tumult,  then  leaped  down 
from  his  vantage-point.  The  next  instant  Boyd  saw 

236 


THE       BIG       FISHERMAN       WENT      THROUGH       THE       RANKS      OF       THE 
ENEMY      LIKE     A     TORNADO 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

him  approaching,  followed  by  several  others.  He 
endeavored  to  hustle  Clyde  to  the  big  doors  ahead  of 
the  oncomers,  but  being  intercepted,  backed  against 
the  shed  wall  barely  in  time  to  beat  off  the  foremost. 

His  nearest  assailant  had  armed  himself  with  an  iron 
bar  and  endeavored  to  guard  the  first  blow  with  this  in 
strument,  but  it  flew  from  his  grasp,  and  he  sustained 
the  main  force  of  the  impact  on  his  forearm.  Then, 
though  Boyd  fell  back  farther,  the  others  rushed  in  and 
he  found  himself  hard  beset.  What  happened  thereafter 
neither  he  nor  Alton  Clyde,  who  was  half-dazed  to 
begin  with,  ever  clearly  remembered,  for  in  such  over 
charged  instants  the  mental  photograph  is  wont  to  be 
either  unusually  distinct  or  else  fogged  to  such  a  blur 
that  only  the  high-lights  stand  out  clearly  in  retro 
spect. 

Before  he  had  recognized  the  personal  nature  of  the 
assault,  Emerson  found  himself  engaged  in  a  furious 
hand-to-hand  struggle  where  a  want  of  room  hampered 
the  free  use  of  his  cudgel,  and  he  was  forced  to  rely 
mainly  upon  his  fists.  Blows  were  rained  upon  him 
from  unguarded  quarters,  he  was  kicked,  battered,  and 
flung  about,  his  blind  instinct  finally  leading  him  to 
clinch  writh  whomsoever  his  hands  encountered.  Then 
a  sudden  blackness  swallowed  him  up,  after  which  he 
found  himself  upon  his  knees,  his  arms  loosely  en 
circling  a  pair  of  legs,  and  realized  that  he  had  been 
half-stunned  by  a  blow  from  behind.  The  legs  he  was 
clutching  tried  to  kick  him  loose,  at  which  he  summoned 
all  his  strength,  knowing  that  he  must  go  down  no 
further;  but  as  he  struggled  upward,  something  smote 
him  in  the  side  with  sickening  force,  and  he  went  to 
his  knees  again. 

Close  beside  him  he  saw  the  club  he  had  dropped, 
237 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  endeavored  to  reach  it;  but  before  he  could  do  so, 
a  hand  snatched  it  away  and  he  heard  a  voice  cursing 
above  him.  A  second  time  he  tried  to  rise,  but  his 
shocked  nerves  failed  to  transmit  the  impulse  to  his 
muscles;  he  could  only  raise  his  shoulder  and  fling  an 
arm  weakly  above  his  head  in  anticipation  of  the  crush 
ing  blow  he  knew  was  coming.  But  it  did  not  descend. 
Instead,  he  heard  a  gun  shot — that  sound  for  which  his 
ears  had  been  strained  from  the  first — and  then  for  an 
instant  he  wondered  if  it  had  been  directed  at  himself. 
A  weight  sank  across  his  calves,  the  legs  he  had  been 
holding  broke  away  from  his  grasp ;  then,  with  a  final 
effort,  he  pulled  himself  free  and  staggered  to  his 
feet,  his  head  rocking,  his  knees  sagging.  He  saw  a 
man's  figure  facing  him,  and  lunged  at  it,  to  bring  up 
in  the  arms  of  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser,  who  cried  sharply: 

"Are  you  hurt,  Bo?" 

Too  dazed  to  answer,  he  turned  and  beheld  the  body 
of  a  man  stretched  face  downward  on  the  floor.  Be 
yond,  the  fellow  in  the  gray  suit  was  disappearing  into 
the  crowd.  Even  yet  Boyd  did  not  realize  whence  the 
shot  had  come,  although  the  smell  of  powder  was  sharp 
in  his  nostrils.  Then  he  saw  a  gleam  of  blue  metal  in 
Fraser's  hands. 

"Give  me  that  gun!"  he  panted,  but  his  deliverer 
held  him  off. 

"  I  may  need  it  myself,  and  I  ain't  got  but  the  one 
here!  Let's  get  Clyde  out  of  this." 

Stepping  over  the  motionless  form  at  his  feet,  Fraser 
lifted  the  young  club-man,  who  was  huddled  in  a  form 
less  heap  as  if  he  had  fallen  from  a  great  height,  and 
together  the  two  dragged  him  toward  The  Bedford 
Castle.  As  they  went  aboard,  they  were  nearly  run 
down  by  a  body  of  reinforcements  that  Captain 

238 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Peasley  had  finally  mustered  from  between  decks. 
Down  the  gang-plank  and  over  the  side  they  poured, 
grimy  stokers,  greasy  oilers,  and  swearing  deckhands, 
equipped  with  capstan  -  bars,  wrenches,  and  marlin- 
spikes.  Without  waiting  to  observe  the  effect  of  these 
new-comers,  Boyd  and  Fraser  bundled  Alton  into  the 
first  cabin  at  hand,  then  turned  back. 

"Better  stay  here  and  look  after  him.  You're  all 
in,  yourself,"  the  adventurer  advised.  "I'm  going  to 
hunt  up  George." 

He  was  away  on  the  instant,  with  Boyd  staggering 
after  him,  still  weak  and  shaking,  the  vague  discom 
fort  of  running  blood  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  muttering 
thickly  as  he  went:  "  Give  me  your  gun,  Fraser!  Give 
me  your  gun!" 

The  battle  was  still  raging  when  the  police  arrived, 
after  an  interminable  delay,  and  it  ceased  only  at  the 
rough  play  of  night-sticks,  and  after  repeated  charges 
of  the  uniformed  men  had  broken  up  the  ranks  of  the 
strikers.  The  dock  was  cleared  at  length,  and  wagon- 
loads  of  bleeding,  struggling  combatants  rolled  away 
to  jail,  union  and  non-union  men  bundled  in  together. 
But  work  was  not  resumed  that  day,  despite  the  fact 
that  Big  George,  bruised,  ragged,  and  torn,  doubled  his 
force  of  pickets  and  took  personal  charge  of  them. 

That  night,  under  glaring  headlines,  the  evening 
papers  told  the  story,  reporting  one  fisherman  fatally 
hurt,  one  striker  dead  of  a  gunshot  wound,  and  many 
others  injured. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WILLIS    MARSH    SPRINGS    A   TRAP 

THE  ensuing  days  were  strenuous  ones  for  the 
partners,  working  as  they  did,  with  a  crippled 
force  and  under  constant  guard.  Riot  was  in  the 
air,  and  violence  on  every  side.  By  the  police,  whose 
apathy  disappeared  only  when  an  opportunity  oc 
curred  of  arresting  the  men  they  were  supposed  to 
protect,  they  were  more  handicapped  than  helped. 
The  appearance  of  a  fisherman  at  any  point  along  the 
water-front  became  a  sure  signal  for  strife. 

Day  by  day  the  feeling  on  both  sides  grew  stronger, 
till  the  non-union  men  were  cemented  together  in  a 
spirit  of  bitterest  indignation,  which  materially  les 
sened  their  zeal  for  work.  Every  act  of  violence  in 
tensified  their  rage.  They  armed  themselves,  in  de 
fiance  of  orders,  tossed  restraint  to  the  winds,  and 
sought  the  slightest  opportunity  of  wreaking  ven 
geance  upon  their  enemies.  Nor  were  the  rioters  less 
determined.  Authority,  after  all,  is  but  a  hollow  shell, 
which,  once  broken,  is  quickly  disintegrated.  Fierce 
engagements  took  place,  populating  the  hospitals.  It 
became  necessary  to  guard  all  property  in  the  ware 
house  districts,  and  men  ceased  to  venture  there  alone 
after  dark. 

One  circumstance  caused  Boyd  no  little  surprise 
and  uneasiness — the  fact  that  no  vigorous  effort  had 

240 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

been  made  to  fix  the  blame  for  the  striker's  death  on 
that  riotous  afternoon.  Surely,  he  reasoned,  Marsh's 
detective  must  have  witnessed  the  killing,  and  must 
recognize  the  ease  with  which  the  act  could  now  be 
saddled  upon  him.  If  delay  were  their  object,  Em 
erson  could  not  understand  why  they  did  not  seek 
to  have  him  arrested.  The  consequences  might  well 
be  serious  if  Marsh's  money  were  used ;  but,  as  the  days 
slipped  past  and  nothing  occurred,  he  decided  that  he 
had  been  overfearful  on  this  score,  or  else  that  the 
manager  of  the  Packers'  Trust  had  limits  beyond 
which  he  would  not  push  his  persecution. 

A  half-mile  from  Captain  Peasley's  ship,  the  rival 
Company  tenders  were  loading  rapidly  with  union 
labor,  and  it  seemed  that  in  spite  of  Boyd's  plan  to  be 
first  at  Kalvik,  Marsh's  force  would  beat  him  to  the 
ground  unless  greater  efforts  were  made.  When  he 
communicated  these  fears  to  Big  George,  the  fisherman 
suddenly  became  a  slave-driver.  He  passed  among 
his  men,  cajoling,  threatening,  bribing,  and  they  began 
to  work  like  demons,  with  the  result  that  when  the 
twentieth  arrived  he  was  able  to  announce  to  his  part 
ner  that  the  work  would  be  finished  some  time  during 
the  following  morning. 

The  next  day  Emerson  and  Clyde  drove  down  to  the 
dock  with  Cherry  in  a  closed  carriage,  experiencing 
no  annoyance  beyond  some  jeers  and  insults  as  they 
passed  through  the  picket  line.  Boyd  had  barely  seen 
them  comfortably  established  on  board,  when  up  the 
ship's  gangway  came  "  Fingerless  "  Eraser  radiantly  at 
tired,  three  heavily  laden  hotel  porters  groaning  at  his 
back,  the  customary  thick  -  waisted  cigar  between  his 
teeth. 

"Are  you  going  with  us?"  Boyd  inquired. 
241 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Sure." 

"  See  here  Is  life  one  long  succession  of  surprise- 
parties  with  you?" 

"Why,  I've  figgered  on  this  right  along." 

"But  the  ship  is  jammed  now.     There  is  no  room." 

"Oh,  I  fixed  that  up  long  ago.  I  am  going  to  bunk 
with  the  steward." 

"  Well,  why  in  the  world  didn't  you  let  us  know  you 
were  coming?" 

"  Say,  don't  kid  yourself.  You  knew  I  couldn't  stay 
behind."  Eraser  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  airily.  "I 
never  start  anything  I  can't  finish,  I  keep  telling  you, 
and  I'm  going  to  put  this  deal  through,  now  that  I've 
got  it  started."  With  a  half-embarrassed  laugh  and 
a  complete  change  of  manner,  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
Boyd's  shoulder,  saying:  "Pal,  I  ain't  much  good  to 
myself  or  anybody  else,  but  I  like  you  and  I  want  to 
stick  around.  Maybe  I'll  come  in  useful  yet — you 
can't  tell." 

Emerson  had  never  glimpsed  this  side  of  the  man's 
nature,  and  it  rather  surprised  him. 

"Of  course  you  can  come  along,  old  man,"  he  re 
sponded,  heartily.  "We're  glad  to  have  you." 

To  one  who  has  never  witnessed  the  spring  sailing 
of  a  Northern  cannery-tender,  the  event  is  well  worth 
seeing;  it  is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  the  Seattle  water 
front.  Not  only  is  there  the  inevitable  confusion  in 
volved  in  the  departure  of  an  overloaded  craft,  but 
likewise  there  is  all  the  noisy  excitement  that  attends 
a  shipment  of  Oriental  troops. 

The  Chinese  maintain  such  a  clatter  as  to  drown  the 
hoarse  cries  of  the  stevedores,  the  complaint  of  the 
creaking  tackle,  and  the  rumble  of  the  winches.  They 
scurry  hither  and  yon  like  a  distracted  army,  forever 

242 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

in  the  way,  shouting,  clacking,  squealing  in  senseless 
turmoil.  They  are  timid  as  to  the  water,  and  for  them 
a  voyage  is  at  all  times  beset  with  many  alarms.  It 
is  no  more  possible  to  restrain  them  than  to  calm  a 
frightened  herd  of  wild  pigs,  nor  will  they  embark  at 
all  until  their  frenzy  has  run  its  course  and  died  of  its 
own  exhaustion.  To  discipline  them  according  to  the 
seamen's  standard  is  inadvisable,  for  many  of  them  are 
"cutters,"  big,  evil,  saffron-hued  fellows,  whose  trade 
it  is  to  butcher  and  in  whose  dextrous  hands  a  knife 
becomes  a  frightful  weapon. 

The  Japs,  ordinarily  so  noiseless  and  submissive, 
yield  to  the  contagion  and  add  their  share  to  the  up 
roar.  Each  man  carries  a  few  pounds  of  baggage  in 
bundles  or  packs  or  valises,  and  these  scanty  belong 
ings  he  guards  with  shrieking  solicitude. 

While  the  pandemonium  of  the  Orientals  who 
gathered  to  board  The  Bedford  Castle  was  sufficient  in 
itself  to  cause  consternation,  it  was  as  nothing  to  that 
which  broke  loose  when  the  fishermen  began  to  assemble. 
To  a  man  they  were  drunk,  belligerent  and,  declamatory. 
A  few,  to  be  sure,  were  still  busy  with  the  tag  ends  of 
the  cargo,  but  the  majority  had  gone  to  their  lodgings 
for  their  packs,  and  now  reappeared  in  a  state  of  the 
wildest  exuberance;  for  this  would  be  their  last  spree 
of  the  season,  and  before  them  lay  a  period  of  long, 
sleepless  nights,  exposure,  and  unceasing  labor,  where 
in  a  year's  work  must  be  crowded  into  three  months. 
They,  therefore,  inaugurated  the  change  in  befitting 
style. 

On  the  whole,  no  explosive  has  ever  been  invented 
that  is  so  noisy  in  its  effect,  so  furiously  expansive  in 
its  action,  as  the  fumes  of  cheap  whiskey.  The  great 
dock-shed  soon  began  to  reverberate  to  the  wildest 

243 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

clamor,  which  added  to  the  fury  of  the  crowd  outside. 
The  strikers,  unable  to  enter  the  building,  flowed  down 
upon  the  adjoining  wharf,  or  clambered  to  the  roofs 
nearby,  whence  they  jeered  insultingly.  Among  them 
was  a  newspaper  photographer,  bent  on  securing  an 
unusual  picture  for  his  publication,  and  in  truth  the 
scene  from  this  point  of  view  was  sufficiently  novel  and 
striking. 

The  decks  of  the  big,  low-lying  tramp  steamer  were 
piled  high  with  gear  of  every  description.  A  trio  of 
stout  tow-boats  were  blocked  up  amidships,  long  piles 
of  lumber  rose  higher  than  a  man's  head,  and  the  roofs 
of  the  deck-houses  were  jammed  with  fishing  -  boats 
nested,  one  inside  the  other,  like  pots  in  a  kitchen. 
Every  available  inch  was  crowded  with  cases  of  gasoline, 
of  groceries,  and  of  the  varied  provisions  required  on  an 
expedition  of  this  magnitude.  Aft,  on  rows  of  hooks, 
were  suspended  the  carcasses  of  sheep  and  bullocks  and 
hogs;  there  seemed  to  be  nowhere  another  foot  of 
available  room.  The  red  water-line  of  the  ship  was 
already  submerged,  yet  notwithstanding  this  fact  her 
derricks  clanged  noisily,  her  booms  swung  back  and 
forth,  and  her  gaping  hatches  swallowed  momentary 
loads.  Those  fishermen  who  had  come  aboard  early 
had  settled  like  flies  in  the  rigging,  whence  they  taunted 
their  enemies,  hurling  back  insult  for  insult. 

It  was  much  like  the  departure  of  a  gold  steamer 
during  the  early  famine  stages  of  the  northward 
stampede,  save  that  now  there  were  no  women,  while 
the  confusion  was  immeasurably  greater,  and  through 
it  all  might  be  felt  a  certain  strained  and  angry  menace. 
All  the  long  afternoon  The  Bedford  Castle  lay  at  her 
moorings  subjected  to  the  customary  eleventh-hour 
delays.  As  the  time  dragged  on,  and  the  liquor  died 

244 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

in  the  fishermen,  it  became  a  herculean  task  to  prevent 
them  from  issuing  forth  into  the  street,  while  the  crowds 
outside  seemed  possessed  of  a  desperate  determination 
to  force  an  entrance  and  bring  the  issue  to  a  final  settle 
ment.  But  across  the  shore  end  of  the  dock  a  double 
cordon  was  drawn  which  hurled  back  the  intruders  at 
every  advance. 

The  fishermen  who  remained  inside  the  barnlike 
structure,  unable  to  come  at  their  enemies,  fought 
among  themselves,  bidding  fair  to  wreck  the  building 
in  the  extravagance  of  their  delirium,  while  outside 
the  rival  faction  kept  up  a  fire  of  missiles  and  execra 
tions.  As  the  hours  crept  onward  the  tension  in 
creased,  and  at  last  Boyd  turned  to  Captain  Peasley 
saying,  "  You'd  better  be  ready  to  pull  out  at  any 
minute,  for  if  the  mob  breaks  in  we'll  never  be  able 
to  hold  these  maniacs."  He  pointed  to  the  black 
swarm  aloft,  whence  issued  hoarse  waves  of  sound. 
11 1  don't  like  the  look  of  things,  a  little  bit." 

"They  are  a  trifle  strained,  to  be  sure,"  the  Captain 
acknowledged.  "  I'll  stand  by  to  cast  off  at  your 
signal,  so  you'd  better  pass  the  word  around." 

Boyd  left  the  ship  and  went  to  the  dock-office,  for 
there  still  remained  one  thing  to  be  done :  he  could  not 
leave  without  sounding  a  final  note  of  triumph  for 
Mildred.  How  sweet  it  would  be  to  her  ears  he  knew 
full  well,  yet  he  could  not  help  wondering  if  she  would 
feel  the  thrill  that  mastered  him  at  this  moment.  As 
he  saw  the  empty  spaces  where  had  stood  those  masses 
of  freight  which  he  had  gathered  at  such  cost,  as  he 
heard  his  own  men  bellowing  defiance  at  his  enemies 
and  realized  that  his  first  long  stride  toward  success 
had  been  taken,  his  heart  swelled  with  gladness  and  the 
breath  caught  momentarily  in  his  throat.  After  all, 

245 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

he  was  going  to  win!  Out  of  the  shimmering  distance 
of  his  desire,  the  lady  of  his  dreams  drew  closer  to  him ; 
and  ere  long  he  could  lay  at  her  feet  the  burden  of  his 
travail,  and  then — .  Oblivious  to  the  turmoil  all  about, 
he  wrote  rapidly,  almost  incoherently,  to  Mildred,  tran 
scribing  the  mood  of  mingled  tenderness  and  exultation 
which  possessed  him. 

"Outside  the  building,"  he  concluded,  "there  is  a 
raging  mob.  They  would  ruin  me  if  they  could,  but 
they  can't  do  it,  they  can't  do  it.  We  have  beaten 
them  all,  my  lady.  We  have  won!" 

He  was  sealing  his  letter,  when,  without  warning, 
"Fingerless"  Fraser  appeared  at  his  side,  his  fishlike 
eyes  agleam,  his  colorless  face  drawn  with  anxiety. 

"They've  come  to  grab  you  for  killing  that  striker," 
he  began,  breathlessly;  "there's  a  couple  of  'square- 
toes  '  on  the  dock  now.  Better  take  it  on  the  '  lam ' — 
quick!" 

"God!"  So  Marsh  had  withheld  this  stroke  until 
the  last  moment,  when  the  least  delay  would  be  fatal. 
Boyd  knew  that  if  he  were  brought  into  court  he  would 
have  hard  shift  to  clear  himself  against  the  mass  of 
perjured  testimony  that  his  rival  had  doubtless  gath 
ered;  but  even  this  seemed  as  nothing  in  comparison 
with  the  main  issue.  For  one  wild  instant  he  con 
sidered  sending  George  Bait  on  with  the  ship.  That 
would  be  folly,  no  doubt;  yet  plainly  he  could  not 
hold  The  Bedford  Castle  and  keep  together  that  raging 
army  of  fishermen  while  he  fought  his  way  through  the 
tedious  vexations  of  a  trial.  He  saw  that  he  had 
under-estimated  his  enemy's  cunning,  and  he  realized 
that,  if  Marsh  had  planned  this  move,  he  would  press  his 
advantage  to  the  full. 

"There's  two  plain-clothes  men,"  he  heard  Fraser 
246 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

running  on.     "  I  '  made '  'em  as  they  were  talking  to 
Peasley.     You'd  better  'beat'  it,  quick!" 

"How?  I  couldn't  get  through  that  crowd.  They 
know  me.  Listen!"  Outside  the  street  broke  into  a 
roar  at  some  taunt  of  the  fishermen  high  up  in  the 
rigging.  "  I  can't  run  away,  and  if  those  detectives 
get  me  I'm  ruined." 

"Well!  What's  to  be  done?"  demanded  Fraser, 
sharply.  "  If  you  say  the  word,  we'll  shoot  it  out  with 
them,  and  get  away  on  the  ship  before — 

"  We  can't  do  that — there  are  a  dozen  policemen  in 
front  here." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  move  quick,  or  they'll  'cop' 
you,  sure." 

Boyd  clinched  his  hands  in  desperation.  "  I  guess 
they've  got  me,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "There's  no  way 
out." 

His  eyes  fell  upon  the  letter  containing  his  boastful 
assurance  of  victory.  What  a  mockery! 

"  From  what  they  said  I  don't  think  they  know  you," 
Fraser  continued.  "  Anyhow,  they  wanted  Peasley  to 
point  you  out.  When  they  come  off,  maybe  you  can 
slip  'em." 

"But  how?"  Boyd  seized  eagerly  upon  the  sugges 
tion.  "  The  wharf  is  empty — see!  I'll  have  to  cross  it 
in  plain  sight." 

Through  the  rear  door  of  the  office  that  opened  upon 
the  dock  proper  they  beheld  the  great  floor  almost 
entirely  clear.  Save  for  a  few  tons  of  freight  at  which 
Big  George's  men  were  working,  it  was  as  unobstructed 
as  a  lawn;  and,  although  it  was  nearly  the  size  of  a  city 
block,  it  afforded  no  more  means  of  concealment  than 
did  the  little  office  itself,  with  its  glass  doors,  its  counter, 
and  its  long  desk,  at  the  farther  end  of  which  a  bill- 
17  247 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

clerk  was  poring  over  his  task.  Iron-barred  windows 
at  the  front  of  the  room  looked  out  upon  the  street; 
other  windows  and  a  door  at  the  right  opened  upon  the 
driveway  and  railroad  track,  while  at  the  rear  the  glass- 
panelled  door  through  which  they  had  just  been  peer 
ing  gave  egress  only  to  the  dock  itself,  up  which  the 
two  officers  were  likely  to  come  at  any  instant.  Even 
as  Emerson,  with  a  last  desperate  glance,  summed  up 
the  possible  places  of  concealment,  Fraser  exclaimed, 
softly : 

"There  they  are  now!"  and  they  saw  at  the  foot  of 
the  gang-plank  two  men  talking  with  Big  George. 
They  saw  Bait  point  the  strangers  carelessly  to  the 
office,  whence  he  had  seen  Boyd  disappearing  a  few 
moments  before,  and  turn  back  to  his  stevedores;  then 
they  saw  the  plain-clothes  men  approaching. 

"Here!  Gimme  your  coat  and  hat,  quick!"  cried 
Fraser  in  a  low  voice,  his  eyes  blazing  at  a  sudden 
thought.  He  stripped  his  own  garments  from  his  back 
with  feverish  haste.  "Put  mine  on.  There!  I'll 
stall  for  you.  When  they  grab  me,  take  it  on  the  run. 
Understand!" 

"That  won't  do.  Everybody  knows  me."  Boyd 
cast  an  apprehensive  glance  at  the  arched  back  of  the 
bill-clerk,  but  Fraser,  quick  of  resource  in  such  a 
situation,  forced  him  swiftly  to  make  the  change,  saying : 

"Nix.  It's  your  only  'out.'  Stand  here,  see!" 
He  indicated  a  position  beside  the  rear  door.  "  I'll  step 
out  the  other  way  where  they  can  see  me,"  he  contin 
ued,  pointing  to  the  wagon- way  at  the  right.  "  Savvy  ? 
When  they  grab  me,  you  beat  it,  and  don't  wait  for 
nothing." 

"But  you— " 

Already  they  could  hear  the  footsteps  of  the  officers. 
248 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"I'll  take  a  chance.     Good-bye." 

There  was  no  time  even  for  a  hand-shake;  Fraser 
stepped  swiftly  to  the  door,  then  strolled  quietly  out 
into  the  view  of  the  two  men,  who  an  instant  later 
accosted  him. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Boyd  Emerson?" 

The  adventurer  answered  brusquely,  "Yes,  but  I 
can't  talk  to  you  now." 

"You  are  under  arrest,  Mr.  Emerson." 

Boyd  waited  to  hear  no  more.  The  glass  door 
swung  open  noiselessly  under  his  hand,  and  he  stepped 
out  just  as  the  bill  -  clerk  looked  up  from  his  work, 
staring  out  through  the  other  entrance. 

"Fingerless"  Eraser's  voice  was  louder  now,  as  if  for 
a  signal.  "Arrest  me?  What  do  you  mean?  Get 
out  of  my  way." 

"You'd  better  come  peaceably." 

Boyd  heard  a  sharp  exclamation — "Get  him,  Bill!" 
And  then  the  sound  of  men  struggling.  He  ran, 
followed  by  a  roar  from  the  strikers,  in  whose  full  view 
Eraser's  encounter  with  the  plain-clothes  men  was 
taking  place.  A  backward  glance  showed  him  that 
Fraser  had  drawn  his  pursuers  to  the  street.  He  had 
broken  away  and  dodged  out  into  the  open,  where  the 
other  officers  responded  at  a  call  and  seized  him  as 
he  apparently  undertook  to  break  through  the  cordon. 
This  diversion  served  an  unexpected  purpose.  Not 
only  did  it  draw  attention  from  Emerson's  retreat,  but 
it  also  gave  the  mob  its  long  -  awaited  opportunity. 
Recognizing  in  the  officers'  quarry  the  supposed  figure 
of  Emerson,  the  hated  cause  of  all  this  strife,  the 
strikers  gave  vent  to  a  great  shout  of  rage  and  triumph, 
and  surged  forward  across  the  wide  street,  carrying  the. 
police  before  them  with  irresistible  force. 

249 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

In  a  moment  it  became  not  a  question  of  keeping  the 
entrance  to  the  wharf,  but  of  protecting  the  life  of  the 
prisoner,  and  the  policemen  rallied  with  their  backs  to 
the  wall,  their  clubs  working  havoc  with  the  heads  that 
came  within  striking  distance. 

Scarcely  had  Boyd  reached  Big  George,  when  a  wing 
of  the  besieging  army  swept  in  through  the  unguarded 
entrance  and  down  the  dock  like  an  avalanche,  leaving 
behind  them  the  battling  officers  and  the  hungry  pack 
clamoring  for  the  prisoner. 

"  Drop  that  freight,  and  get  aboard  the  best  way  you 
can  F'Boyd  yelled  at  the  fishermen,  and  with  a  bound  was 
out  into  the  open  crying  toCaptainPeasley  on  the  bridge : 

"Here  they  come!     Cast  off,  for  God's  sake!" 

Instantly  a  wild  cry  of  rage  and  defiance  rose  from 
the  clotted  rigging  and  upper  works  of  The  Bedford 
Castle.  Down  the  fishermen  swarmed,  ready  to  over 
flow  the  sides  of  the  ship,  but,  with  a  sharp  order  to 
George,  Boyd  ran  up  the  gang-plank  and  rushed  along 
the  rail  to  a  commanding  position  in  the  path  of  his 
men,  where,  drawing  his  revolver,  he  roared  at  them  to 
keep  back,  threatening  the  first  to  go  ashore.  His 
lungs  were  bursting  from  his  sprint,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  his  voice  rose  above  the  turmoil;  but  he 
presented  such  a  figure  of  determination  that  the  men 
paused,  and  then  the  steamship  whistle  interrupted 
opportunely,  with  a  deafening  blast. 

The  dozen  men  who  had  been  slinging  freight  on  the 
dock  hastened  up  the  gang-plank  or  climbed  the  fenders, 
while  the  signal-man  clung  to  the  lifting  tackle,  and, 
at  the  piping  cry  of  his  whistle,  was  swung  aloft  out 
of  the  very  arms  of  the  rioters. 

Above,  on  the  flying  bridge,  Captain  Peasley  was 
bellowing  orders;  a  quartermaster  was  running  up  the 

250 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

iron  steps  to  the  pilot-house ;  on  deck  the  sailors  were 
fighting  their  way  to  their  posts  through  the  ranks  of 
the  raging  fishermen  and  the  shrieking  confusion  of 
the  Orientals;  the  last  men  aboard,  with  a  "  Heave  Ho!" 
in  unison,  slid  the  gang-plank  upward  and  out  of  reach. 
The  neighboring  roofs,  lately  so  black,  were  emptying 
now,  the  onlookers  hastening  to  join  in  the  attack. 

Big  George  alone  remained  upon  the  wharf.  As  he 
saw  the  rush  coming  he  had  ordered  his  men  to  abandon 
their  load ;  then  he  ran  to  the  after-mooring,  and,  taking 
slack  from  a  deck  hand,  cast  it  off.  Back  up  the  dock 
he  went  to  the  forward  hawser,  where,  at  a  signal,  he 
did  the  same,  moving,  toward  the  last,  without  ex 
cessive  hurry,  as  if  in  a  spirit  of  bravado.  The  ship 
was  clear,  and  he  had  not  cut  a  hawser.  He  had  done 
his  work;  all  but  a  ton  or  two  of  the  cargo  was  stowed. 
There  was  no  longer  cause  for  delay. 

"  Get  aboard !  Are  you  mad  ?"  Emerson  shouted,  but 
the  cry  never  reached  him.  Back  he  came  slowly,  in  front 
of  the  press,  secure  in  his  tremendous  strength,  defiance 
in  his  every  move,  a  smouldering  challenge  in  his  eyes; 
and  noting  that  gigantic  frame  with  its  square-hewn, 
flaming  face,  not  one  of  his  enemies  dared  oppose  him. 
But  as  he  passed  they  yapped  and  snarled  and  jostled 
at  his  heels, hungry  to  rend  him  and  only  lacking  courage. 

As  yet  the  ship,  although  throbbing  to  the  first 
pulsations  of  her  engines,  lay  snug  along  the  piling, 
but  gradually  her  stern  swung  off  and  a  wedge  of 
clearance  showed.  Almost  imperceptibly  she  drew 
back  and  rubbed  against  the  timbers.  A  fender  began 
to  squeeze  and  complain.  The  dock  planking  creaked. 
Sixty  seconds  more  and  she  would  be  out  of  arm's- 
reach,  and  still  George  made  no  haste.  Again  Boyd 
shouted  at  him,  and  then  with  one  farewell  glower  over 

251 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

his  shoulder  the  big  fellow  mounted  a  pile,  stretched 
his  arms  upward  to  the  bulwarks,  and  swung  himself 
lightly  aboard. 

Even  yet  Emerson's  anxiety  was  of  the  keenest; 
for,  notwithstanding  the  stress  of  these  dragging 
moments,  he  had  not  forgotten  Fraser,  the  vagabond, 
the  morally  twisted  rascal,  to  whose  courage  and 
resourcefulness  he  owed  so  much.  He  strained  his 
eyes  for  a  glimpse  of  the  fellow,  at  the  same  time 
dreading  the  sight  of  a  uniform.  Would  the  ship  never 
get  under  way  and  out  of  hailing  distance?  If  those 
officers  had  discovered  their  mistake,  they  might  yet 
have  time  to  stop  him.  He  vowed  desperately  that 
he  would  not  let  them,  not  if  he  had  to  take  The  Bedford 
Castle  to  sea  with  a  gun  at  the  back  of  her  helmsman. 
He  made  his  way  hurriedly  to  the  bridge,  where  he 
hastily  explained  to  Captain  Peasley  his  evasion  of  the 
officers;  and  here  he  found  Cherry,  her  face  flushed,  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  excitement,  but  far  too  wise  to 
speak  to  him  in  his  present  state  of  mind. 

A  scattered  shower  of  missiles  came  aboard  as  the 
strikers  kept  pace  with  the  steamer  to  the  end  of  the 
slip,  exciting  the  fishermen,  who  had  again  mounted 
the  rigging,  to  a  simian  frenzy.  Oaths,  insults,  and 
jeers  were  hurled  back  and  forth ;  but  as  the  big  steam 
er  gathered  momentum  and  slid  out  of  her  berth,  they 
grew  gradually  more  indistinct,  until  at  last  they  be 
came  muffled,  broken,  and  meaningless.  Even  then  the 
rival  ranks  continued  to  volley  profanely  at  each  other, 
while  the  Captain,  with  hand  on  the  whistle-rope,  blew 
taunting  blasts;  nor  did  the  fishermen  descend  from 
their  perches  until  the  forms  on  the  dock  had  blurred 
together  and  the  city  lay  massed  in  the  distance,  tier 
upon  tier,  against  the  gorgeous  evening  sky. 

252 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN    WHICH    A    MUTINY    IS    THREATENED 

EVEN  after  they  were  miles  down  the  Sound,  Boyd 
remained  at  his  post,  sweeping  the  waters  astern 
in  an  anxious  search  for  some  swift  harbor  craft,  the 
appearance  of  which  would  signal  that  his  escape  had 
been  discovered. 

"  I  won't  feel  safe  until  we  are  past  Port  Townsend," 
he  confessed  to  Cherry,  who  maintained  a  position  at 
his  side. 

"Why  Port  Townsend?     We  don't  stop  there." 

"No.  But  the  police  can  wire  on  from  Seattle  to 
stop  us  and  take  me  off  at  that  point." 

"  If  they  find  out  their  mistake." 

"They  must  have  found  it  out  long  ago.  That's 
why  I've  got  Peasley  forcing  this  old  tub;  she's  doing 
ten  knots,  and  that's  a  breakneck  speed  for  her.  Once 
we're  through  the  Straits,  I'll  be  satisfied.  But  mean 
while —  Emerson  lowered  his  glasses  with  a  sigh  of 
fatigue,  and  in  the  soft  twilight  the  girl  law  that  his 
face  was  lined  and  careworn.  The  yearning  at  her 
heart  lent  poignant  sympathy  to  her  words,  as  she  said : 

"You  deserve  to  win,  Boyd;  you  have  made  a  good 
fight." 

"Oh,  I'll  win!"  he  declared,  wearily.  "I've  got  to 
win;  only  I  wish  we  were  past  Port  Townsend." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"What  will  happen  to  Fraser?"  she  queried. 

"  Nothing  serious,  I  am  sure.  You  see,  they  wanted 
me,  and  nobody  else;  once  they  find  they  have  the 
wrong  man  I  rather  believe  they  will  free  him  in 
disgust." 

A  moment  later  he  went  on:  "Just  the  same,  it 
makes  me  feel  depressed  and  guilty  to  leave  him — I 
— I  wouldn't  desert  a  comrade  for  anything  if  the 
choice  lay  with  me." 

"You  did  quite  right,"  Cherry  warmly  assured  him. 

"You  see,  I  am  not  working  for  myself;  I  am  doing 
this  for  another." 

It  was  the  girl's  turn  to  sigh  softly,  while  the  eyes  she 
turned  toward  the  west  were  strangely  sad  and  dreamy. 
To  her  companion  she  seemed  not  at  all  like  the 
buoyant  creature  who  had  kindled  his  courage  when  it 
was  so  low,  the  brave  girl  who  had  stood  so  steadfastly 
at  his  shoulder  and  kept  his  hopes  alive  during  these 
last,  trying  weeks.  It  struck  him  suddenly  that  she 
had  grown  very  quiet  of  late.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  had  the  leisure  to  notice  it,  but  now,  when  he  came 
to  reflect  on  it,  he  remembered  that  she  had  never 
seemed  quite  the  same  since  his  interview  with  her  on 
that  day  when  Hilliard  had  so  unexpectedly  come  to 
his  rescue.  He  wondered  if  in  reality  this  change 
might  not  be  due  to  some  reflected  alteration  in  him 
self.  Well!  He  could  not  help  it. 

Her  strange  behavior  at  that  time  had  affected  him 
more  deeply  than  he  would  have  thought  possible; 
and  while  he  had  purposely  avoided  thinking  much 
about  the  banker's  sudden  change  of  front,  back  of  his 
devout  thankfulness  for  the  miracle  was  a  vague 
suspicion,  a  curious  feeling  that  made  him  uncom 
fortable  in  the  girl's  presence.  He  could  not  repent 

254 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

his  determination  to  win  at  any  price;  yet  he  shrank, 
with  a  moral  cowardice  which  made  him  inwardly 
writhe,  from  owning  that  Cherry  had  made  the  sacrifice 
at  which  Clyde  and  the  others  had  hinted.  If  it  were 
indeed  true,  it  placed  him  in  an  intolerable  position, 
wherein  he  could  express  neither  his  gratitude  nor  his 
censure.  No  doubt  she  had  read  the  signs  of  his  mental 
confusion,  and  her  own  delicate  sensibility  had  respond 
ed  to  it. 

They  remained  side  by  side  on  the  bridge  while  the 
day  died  amidst  a  wondrous  panoply  of  color,  each 
busied  with  thoughts  that  might  not  be  spoken,  in  their 
hearts  emotions  oddly  at  variance.  The  sky  ahead  of 
them  was  wide-streaked  with  gold,  as  if  for  a  symbol, 
interlaid  with  sooty  clouds  in  silhouette;  on  either  side 
the  mountains  rose  from  penumbral  darkness  to  clear- 
cut  heights  still  bright  from  the  slanting  radiance. 
Here  and  there  along  the  shadowy  shore-line  a  light 
was  born;  the  smell  of  the  salt  sea  was  in  the  air. 
Above  the  rhythmic  pulse  of  the  steamer  rose  the  voices 
of  men  singing  between  decks,  while  the  parting  waters 
at  the  prow  played  a  soft  accompaniment.  A  steward 
summoned  them  to  supper,  but  Boyd  refused,  saying 
he  could  not  eat,  and  the  girl  stayed  with  him  while  the 
miles  slowly  slipped  past  and  the  night  encompassed 
them. 

"Two  hours  more,"  he  told  her,  as  the  ship's  bell 
sounded.  "Then  I  can  eat  and  sleep — and  sing." 

Captain  Peasley  was  pacing  the  bridge  when  later 
they  breasted  the  glare  of  Port  Townsend  and  saw  in 
the  distance  the  flashing  searchlights  of  the  forts  that 
guard  the  Straits.  They  saw  him  stop  suddenly,  and 
raise  his  night-glasses;  Boyd  laid  his  hand  on  Cherry's 
arm.  Presently  the  Captain  crossed  to  them  and  said: 

255 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Yonder  seems  to  be  a  launch  making  out.  See! 
I  wonder  what's  up."  Almost  in  their  path  a  tiny 
light  was  violently  agitated.  "  By  Jove!  They're  sig 
nalling." 

"You  won't  stop,  will  you?"  questioned  Emerson. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.     I  may  have  to." 

The  two  boats  were  drawing  together  rapidly,  and 
soon  those  on  the  bridge  heard  the  faint  but  increasing 
patter  of  a  gasoline  exhaust.  Carrying  the  same  speed 
as  The  Bedford  Castle,  the  launch  shortly  came  within 
hailing  distance.  The  cyclopean  eye  of  the  ship's 
searchlight  blazed  up,  and  the  next  instant,  out 
from  the  gloom  leaped  a  little  craft,  on  the  deck  of 
which  a  man  stood  waving  a  lantern.  She  held  stead 
fastly  to  her  course,  and  a  voice  floated  up  to  them: 

"Ahoy!     What  ship?" 

"  The  Bedford  Castle,  cannery-tender  for  Bristol  Bay," 
Peasley  shouted  back. 

The  man  on  the  launch  relinquished  his  lantern,  and 
using  both  palms  for  a  funnel,  cried,  more  clearly  now: 
"  Heave  to!  We  want  to  come  aboard." 

With  an  exclamation  of  impatience,  the  commanding 
officer  stepped  to  the  telegraph,  but  Emerson  forestalled 
him. 

"Wait,  they're  after  me,  Captain;  it's  the  Port 
Townsend  police,  and  if  you  let  them  aboard  they'll 
take  me  off." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  demanded  Peasley. 

"Ask  them." 

Turning,  the  skipper  bellowed  down  the  gleaming 
electric  pathway,  "Who  are  you?" 

"Police!     We  want  to  come  aboard." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  Emerson. 

Once  more  theCaptain  shouted :  "  What  do  you  want  ?" 
256 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"One  of  your  passengers — Emerson.  Heave  to. 
You're  passing  us." 

"That's  bloody  hard  luck,  Mr.  Emerson;  I  can't  help 
myself,"  the  Captain  declared.  But  again  Boyd 
blocked  him  as  he  started  for  the  telegraph. 

"  I  won't  stand  it,  sir.     It's  a  conspiracy  to  ruin  me." 

"  But,  my  dear  young  man — 

"Don't  touch  that  instrument!" 

From  the  launch  came  cries  of  growing  vehemence, 
and  a  startled  murmur  of  voices  rose  from  somewhere 
in  the  darkness  of  the  deck  beneath. 

"Stand  aside,"  Peasley  ordered,  gruffly;  but  the 
other  held  his  ground,  saying,  quietly: 

"I  warn  you.     I  am  desperate." 

"  Shall  I  stop  her,  sir?"  the  quartermaster  asked  from 
the  shadows  of  the  wheel-house. 

"  No !"  Emerson  commanded,  sharply,  and  in  the  glow 
from  the  binnacle-light  they  saw  he  had  drawn  his  re 
volver,  while  on  the  instant  up  from  the  void  beneath 
heaved  the  massive  figure  of  Big  George  Bait,  a  be 
hemoth,  more  colossal  and  threatening  than  ever  in  the 
dim  light.  Rumbling  curses  as  he  came,  he  leaped 
up  the  pilot-house  steps,  wrenched  open  the  door, 
and  with  one  sweep  of  his  hairy  paw  flung  the  helms 
man  from  his  post,  panting, 

"  Keep  her  going,  Cap',  or  I'll  run  them  down!" 

"  We  stood  by  you,  old  man,"  Emerson  urged;  "you 
stand  by  us.  They  can't  make  you  stop.  They  can't 
come  aboard." 

The  launch  was  abreast  of  them  now,  and  skimming 
along  so  close  that  one  might  have  tossed  a  biscuit 
aboard  of  her.  For  an  instant  Captain  Peasley  hesi 
tated  ;  then  Emerson  saw  the  ends  of  his  bristly  mus 
tache  rise  above  an  expansive  grin  as  he  winked  por- 

257 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

tentously.  But  his  voice  was  convincingly  loud  and 
wrathful  as  he  replied : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  I'll  have  my  blooming  ship 
libelled  for  this." 

"I'll  make  good  your  losses,"  Emerson  volunteered, 
quickly,  realizing  that  other  ears  were  open. 

"Why,  it's  mutiny,  sir." 

"  Exactly !     You  can  say  you  went  out  under  duress." 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  stormed  the  skipper. 
Then,  more  quietly,  "But  I  don't  seem  to  have  any 
choice  in  the  matter;  do  I?" 

"None  whatever." 

"Tell  them  to  go  to  hell!"  growled  Bait  from  the 
open  window  above  their  head. 

A  blasphemous  outcry  floated  up  from  the  launch, 
while  heads  protruded  from  the  deck-house  openings, 
the  faces  white  in  the  slanting  glare.  "  Why  don't  you 
heave  to?"  demanded  a  voice. 

Peasley  stepped  to  the  end  of  the  bridge  and  called 
down:  "I  can't  stop,  my  good  man,  they  won't  allow 
it,  y'  know.  You'll  have  to  bloody  well  come  aboard 
yourself."  Then,  obedient  to  his  command,  the  search 
light  traced  an  arc  through  the  darkness  and  died  out, 
leaving  the  little  craft  in  darkness,  save  for  its  dim 
lantern. 

Unseen  by  the  amazed  quartermaster,  who  was 
startled  out  of  speech  and  action,  Emerson  gripped  the 
Captain's  shoulder  and  whispered  his  thanks,  while  the 
Britisher  grumbled  under  his  breath: 

"Bli'  me!  Won't  that  labor  crowd  be  hot?  They 
nearly  bashed  in  my  head  with  that  iron  spike.  Four 
hundred  pounds!  My  word!" 

The  sputter  of  the  craft  alongside  was  now  punctu 
ated  by  such  a  volley  of  curses  that  he  raised  his  voice 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

again:  "  Belay  that  chatter,  will  you?  There's  a  lady 
aboard." 

The  police  launch  sheered  off,  and  the  sound  of  her 
exhaust  grew  rapidly  fainter  and  fainter.  But  not 
until  it  had  wholly  ceased  did  Big  George  give  over 
his  post  at  the  wheel.  Even  then  he  went  down  the 
ladder  reluctantly,  and  without  a  word  of  thanks,  of 
explanation,  or  of  apology.  With  him  this  had  been 
but  a  part  of  the  day's  work.  He  saw  neither  sentiment 
nor  humor  in  the  episode.  The  clang  of  the  deep- 
throated  ship's  bell  spoke  the  hour,  and,  taking  Cherry's 
arm,  Boyd  helped  her  to  the  deck. 

"Now  let's  eat  something,"  said  she. 

"Yes,"  he  agreed,  relief  and  triumph  in  his  tone, 
"and  drink  something,  too." 

"We'll  drink  to  the  health  of  '  Fingerless'  Fraser." 

"To  the  health  of  'Fingerless'  Fraser,"  he  echoed. 
"We  will  drink  that  standing." 

A  week  later,  after  an  uneventful  voyage  across  a  sea 
of  glass,  The  Bedford  Castle  made  up  through  a  swirling, 
tide-rip  and  into  the  fog-bound  harbor  of  Unalaska. 
The  soaring  "goonies"  that  had  followed  them  from 
Flattery  had  dropped  astern  at  first  sight  of  the 
volcanic  headlands,  and  now  countless  thousands  of 
sea-parrots  fled  from  the  ship's  path,  squattering  away 
in  comic  terror,  dragging  their  fat  bodies  across  the 
sea  as  a  boy  skips  a  flat  rock.  It  had  been  Captain 
Peasley's  hope,  here  at  the  gateway  of  the  Misty  Sea, 
to  learn  something  about  the  lay  of  the  big  ice-floes  to 
the  northward,  but  he  was  disappointed,  for  the  season 
was  yet  too  young  for  the  revenue-cutters,  and  the  local 
hunters  knew  nothing.  Forced  to  rely  on  luck  and  his 
own  skill,  he  steamed  out  again  the  next  day,  this  time 

259 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

doubling  back  to  the  eastward  and  laying  a  cautious 
course  along  the  second  leg  of  the  journey. 

Once  through  the  ragged  barrier  that  separates  the 
North  Pacific  from  her  sister  sea,  the  dank  breath  of 
the  Arctic  smote  them  fairly.  The  breeze  that  wafted 
out  from  the  north  brought  with  it  the  chill  of  limitless 
ice-fields,  and  the  first  night  found  them  hove-to  among 
the  outposts  of  that  shifting  desert  of  death  which 
debouches  out  of  Behring  Straits  with  the  first  approach 
of  autumn,  to  retreat  again  only  at  the  coming  of  re 
luctant  summer.  From  the  crow's-nest  the  lookout 
stared  down  upon  a  white  expanse  that  stretched  be 
yond  the  horizon.  At  dawn  they  began  their  careful 
search,  feeling  their  way  eastward  through  the  open 
lanes  and  tortuous  passages  that  separated  the  floes, 
now  laying-to  for  the  northward  set  of  the  fields  to 
clear  a  path  before  them,  now  stealing  through  some 
narrow  lead  that  opened  into  freer  waters. 

The  Bedford  Castle  was  a  steel  hull  whose  sides,  op 
posed  to  the  jaws  of  the  ponderous  masses,  would  have 
been  crushed  like  an  eggshell  in  a  vise.  Unlike  a 
wooden  ship,  the  gentlest  contact  would  have  sprung 
her  plates,  while  any  considerable  collision  would  have 
pierced  her  as  if  she  had  been  built  of  paper.  Ap 
preciating  to  the  full  the  peril  of  his  slow  advance, 
Captain  Peasley  did  all  the  navigating  in  person;  but 
eventually  they  were  hemmed  in  so  closely  that  for 
a  day  and  a  night  they  could  do  nothing  but  drift  with 
the  pack.  In  time,  however,  the  winds  opened  a 
crevice  through  which  they  retreated  to  follow  the 
outer  limits  farther  eastward,  until  they  were  balked 
again. 

Opposed  to  them  were  the  forces  of  Nature,  and  they 
were  wholly  dependent  upon  her  fickle  favor.  It 

260 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

might  be  a  day,  a  week,  a  month  before  she  would  let 
them  through,  and,  even  when  the  barrier  began  to 
yield,  another  ship,  a  league  distant,  might  profit  by 
an  opening  which  to  them  was  barred.  For  a  long, 
dull  period  the  voyagers  lay  as  helpless  as  if  in  dry-dock, 
while  wandering  herds  of  seals  barked  at  them  or  bands 
of  walruses  ceased  their  fishing  and  crept  out  upon  the 
ice-pans  to  observe  these  invaders  of  their  peace. 
When  an  opportunity  at  last  presented  itself,  they 
threaded  their  way  southward,  there  to  try  another 
approach,  and  another,  and  another,  until  the  first 
of  May  had  come  and  gone,  leaving  them  but  little 
closer  to  their  goal  than  when  they  first  hove-to.  Late 
one  evening  they  discerned  smoke  on  the  horizon,  and 
the  next  morning's  light  showed  a  three-masted 
steamship  fast  in  the  ice,  a  few  miles  to  the  West 
ward. 

"That's  The  Juliet,''  Big  George  informed  his  com 
panions,  "  one  of  the  North  American  Packers'  Associa 
tion  tenders." 

"She  was  loading  when  we  left  Seattle,"  Boyd 
remarked. 

"It  is  Willis  Marsh's  ship,  so  he  must  be  aboard," 
supplemented  Cherry.  "  She's  a  wooden  ship,  and  built 
for  this  business.  If  we  don't  look  out  he'll  beat  us  in, 
after  all." 

"What  good  will  that  do  him?"  Clyde  questioned. 
"The  fish  don't  bite — I  mean  run — for  sixty  days  yet." 

Emerson  and  Bait  merely  shrugged. 

To  Cherry  Malotte  this  had  been  a  voyage  of  dreams ; 
for  once  away  from  land,  Boyd  had  become  his  real 
self  again — that  genial,  irrepressible  self  she  had  seen 
but  rarely — and  his  manner  had  lost  the  restraint 
and  coolness  which  recently  had  disturbed  their  rela- 

261 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

tions.  Of  necessity  their  cramped  environment  had 
thrown  them  much  together,  and  their  companionship 
had  been  most  pleasant.  She  and  Boyd  had  spent  long 
hours  together,  during  which  his  light-heartedness  had 
rivalled  that  of  Alton  Clyde — hours  wherein  she  had 
come  to  know  him  more  intimately  and  to  feel  that  he 
was  growing  to  a  truer  understanding  of  herself.  She 
realized  beyond  all  doubt  that  for  him  there  was  but 
one  woman  in  all  the  world,  yet  the  mere  pleasure  of 
being  near  him  was  an  anodyne  for  her  secret  distress. 
Womanlike,  she  took  what  was  offered  her  and  strove 
unceasingly  for  more. 

Two  days  after  sighting  The  Juliet  they  raised  an 
other  ship,  one  of  the  sailing  fleet  which  they  knew  to 
be  hovering  in  the  offing,  and  then  on  the  fifth  of  the 
month  the  capricious  current  opened  a  way  for  them. 
Slowly  at  first  they  pushed  on  between  the  floes  into 
a  vast  area  of  slush-ice,  thence  to  a  stretch  as  open  and 
placid  as  a  country  mill-pond.  The  lookout  pointed 
a  path  out  of  this,  into  which  they  steamed,  coming  at 
length  to  clear  water,  with  the  low  shores  of  the  main 
land  twenty  miles  away. 

At  sundown  they  anchored  in  the  wide  estuary  of 
the  Kalvik  River,  the  noisy  rumble  of  their  chains 
breaking  the  silence  that  for  months  had  lain  like  a 
smother  upon  the  port.  The  Indian  village  gave  sign 
of  life  only  in  thin,  azure  wisps  of  smoke  that  rose  from 
the  dirt  roofs;  the  cannery  buildings  stood  as  naked 
and  uninviting  as  when  Boyd  had  last  seen  them.  The 
Greek  cross  crowning  the  little  white  church  was  gild 
ed  by  the  evening  sun.  Through  the  glasses  Cherry 
spied  a  figure  in  the  door  of  her  house  which  she  de 
clared  was  Constantine,  but  with  commendable  caution 
the  big  breed  forebore  to  join  the  fleet  of  kyaks  now 

262 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

rapidly  mustering.  Taking  Clyde  with  them,  she  and 
Boyd  were  soon  on  their  way  to  the  land,  leaving  George 
to  begin  discharging  his  cargo.  The  long  voyage  that 
had  maddened  the  fishermen  was  at  last  at  an  end,  and 
they  were  eager  to  begin  their  tasks. 

A  three-mile  pull  brought  the  ship's  boat  to  Cherry's 
landing,  where  Constantine  and  Chakawana  met  them, 
the  latter  hysterical  with  joy,  the  former  showing  his 
delight  in  a  rare  display  of  white  teeth  and  a  flow  of 
unintelligible  English.  Even  the  sledge-dogs,  now  fat 
from  idleness,  greeted  their  mistress  with  a  fierce  clamor 
that  dismayed  Alton  Clyde,  to  whom  all  was  utterly 
new  and  strange. 

"Glory  be!"  he  exclaimed.  "They're  nothing  but 
wolves.  Won't  they  bite  ?  And  the  house — ain't  it  a 
hit!  Why,  it  looks  like  a  stage  setting!  Oh,  say,  I'm 
for  this!  I'm  getting  rough  and  primitive  and  brutal 
already!" 

When  they  passed  from  the  store,  with  its  shelves 
sadly  naked  now,  to  the  cozy  living  quarters  behind,  his 
enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds.  Leaving  Chakawana  and 
her  mistress  to  chatter  and  clack  in  their  patois,  he  in 
spected  the  premises  inside  and  out,  peering  into  all 
sorts  of  corners,  collecting  souvenirs,  and  making  friends 
with  the  saturnine  breed. 

Cherry  would  not  return  to  the  ship,  but  Emerson 
and  Clyde  re-embarked  and  were  rowed  down  to  the 
cannery  site,  abreast  of  which  lay  The  Bedford  Castle, 
where  they  lingered  until  the  creeping  twilight  forced 
them  to  the  boat  again.  When  they  reached  the  ship 
the  cool  Arctic  night  had  descended,  but  its  quiet  was 
broken  by  the  halting  rumble  of  steam -winches,  the 
creak  of  tackle,  the  cries  of  men,  and  the  sounds  of  a 
great  activity.  Baring  his  head  to  the  breeze,  Boyd 
is  263 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

filled  his  lungs  full  of  the  bracing  air,  sweet  with  the 
flavor  of  spring,  vowing  secretly  that  no  music  that  he 
had  ever  heard  was  the  equal  of  this.  He  turned  his 
face  to  the  southward  and  smiled,  while  his  thoughts 
sped  a  message  of  love  and  hope  into  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XX 
WHEREIN  "FINGERLESS"  FRASER  RETURNS 

BIG  GEORGE  had  lost  no  time,  and  already  the 
tow-boats  were  overboard,  while  a  raft  of  timber 
was  taking  form  alongside  the  ship.  As  soon  as  it  was 
completed,  it  was  loaded  with  crates  and  boxes  and 
paraphernalia  of  all  sorts,  then  towed  ashore  as  the 
tide  served.  Another  took  its  place,  and  another  and 
another.  All  that  night  the  torches  flared  and  the 
decks  drummed  to  a  ceaseless  activity.  In  the  morn 
ing  Boyd  sent  a  squad  of  fishermen  ashore  to  clear  the 
ground  for  his  buildings,  and  all  day  new  rafts  of 
lumber  and  material  helped  to  increase  the  pile  at  the 
water's  edge. 

His  early  training  as  an  engineer  now  stood  him  in 
good  stead,  for  a  thousand  details  demanded  expert 
supervision;  but  he  was  as  completely  at  home  at  this 
work  as  was  Big  George  in  his  own  part  of  the  under 
taking,  and  it  was  not  long  before  order  began  to 
emerge  from  what  seemed  a  hopeless  chaos.  Never 
did  men  have  more  willing  hands  to  do  their  bidding 
than  did  he  and  George ;  and  when  a  week  later  The 
Juliet,  with  Willis  Marsh  on  board,  came  to  anchor, 
the  bunk-houses  were  up  and  peopled,  while  the  new 
site  had  become  a  beehive  of  activity. 

The  mouth  of  the  Kalvik  River  is  several  miles  wide, 
yet  it  contains  but  a  small  anchorage  suitable  for  deep- 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

draught  ships,  the  rest  of  the  harbor  being  underlaid 
•with  mud-bars  and  tide-flats  over  which  none  but 
small  boats  may  pass ;  and  as  the  canneries  are  distrib 
uted  up  and  down  the  stream  for  a  considerable  distance, 
it  is  necessary  to  transport  all  supplies  to  and  from  the 
ships  by  means  of  tugs  and  lighters.  Owing  to  the 
narrowness  of  the  channel,  The  Juliet  came  to  her 
moorings  not  far  from  The  Bedford  Castle. 

To  Marsh,  already  furious  at  the  trick  the  ice  had 
played  him,  this  forced  proximity  to  his  rival  brought 
home  with  added  irony  the  fact  that  he  had  been  fore 
stalled,  while  it  emphasized  his  knowledge  that  hence 
forth  the  conflict  would  be  carried  on  at  closer  quarters. 
It  would  be  a  contest  between  two  men,  both  de 
termined  to  win  by  fair  means  or  foul. 

Emerson  was  a  dream- dazzled  youth,  striving  like 
a  knight-errant  for  the  love  of  a  lady  and  the  glory  of 
conquest,  but  he  was  also  a  born  fighter,  and  in  every 
emergency  he  had  shown  himself  as  able  as  his  ex 
perienced  opponent. 

As  Marsh  looked  about  and  saw  how  much  Boyd's 
well-directed  energy  was  accomplishing,  he  was  con 
scious  of  a  slight  disheartenment.  Still,  he  was  on  his 
own  ground,  he  had  the  advantage  of  superior  force, 
and  though  he  was  humiliated  by  his  failure  to  throttle 
the  hostile  enterprise  in  its  beginning,  he  was  by  no 
means  at  the  end  of  his  expedients.  He  was  curious 
to  see  his  rival  in  action,  and  he  decided  to  visit  him 
and  test  his  temper. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  following  his  arrival  that 
Marsh,  after  a  tour  of  inspection,  landed  from  his 
launch  and  strolled  up  to  where  Boyd  Emerson  was  at 
work.  He  was  greeted  courteously,  if  a  bit  coolly,  and 
found,  as  on  their  last  meeting,  that  his  own  bearing  was 

266 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

reflected  exactly  in  that  of  Boyd.  Both  men,  beneath 
the  scant  politeness  of  their  outward  manner,  were 
aware  that  the  time  for  ceremony  had  passed.  Here 
in  the  Northland  they  faced  each  other  at  last  as  man 
to  man. 

"I  see  you  have  a  number  of  my  old  fishermen," 
Marsh  observed. 

"  Yes,  we  were  fortunate  in  getting  such  good 
ones." 

"  You  were  fortunate  in  many  ways.  In  fact  you  are 
a  very  lucky  young  man." 

"Indeed!     How?" 

"Well,  don't  you  think  you  were  lucky  to  beat  that 
strike?" 

"  It  wasn't  altogether  luck.  However,  I  do  consider 
myself  fortunate  in  escaping  at  the  last  moment," 
Boyd  laughed  easily.  "By  the  way,  what  happened 
to  the  man  they  mistook  for  me?" 

"Let  him  go,  I  believe.  I  didn't  pay  much  atten 
tion  to  the  matter."  Marsh  had  been  using  his  eyes 
to  good  advantage,  and,  seeing  the  work  even  better  in 
hand  than  he  had  supposed,  he  was  moved  by  irrita 
tion  and  the  desire  to  goad  his  opponent  to  say  more 
than  he  had  intended.  "  I  rather  think  you  will  have 
a  lot  to  explain,  one  of  these  days,"  he  said,  with 
deliberate  menace. 

"With  fifty  thousand  cases  of  salmon  aboard  The 
Bedford  Castle  I  will  explain  anything.  Meanwhile 
the  police  may  go  to  the  devil!"  The  cool  assurance 
of  the  young  man's  tone  roused  his  would-be  tormentor 
like  a  personal  affront. 

"  You  got  away  from  Seattle,  but  there  is  a  com 
missioner  at  Dutch  Harbor,  also  a  deputy  marshal, 
who  may  have  better  success  with  a  warrant  than  those 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

policemen  had."  The  Trust's  manager  could  not  keep 
down  the  angry  tremor  in  his  voice,  and  the  other, 
perceiving  it,  replied  in  a  manner  designed  to  inflame 
him  still  more: 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  those  officers.  I  understand 
they  are  both  in  your  employ." 

"What!" 

"  I  hear  you  have  bought  them." 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate — " 

"I  don't  mean  to  insinuate  anything.  Listen!  We 
are  where  we  can  talk  plainly,  Marsh,  and  I  am  tired 
of  all  this  subterfuge.  You  did  what  you  could  to 
stop  me,  you  even  tried  to  have  me  killed — " 

"You  dare  to — " 

"  But  I  guess  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  I  may  be 
just  as  desperate  as  you  are." 

The  men  stared  at  each  other  with  hostile  eyes,  but 
the  accusation  had  come  so  suddenly  and  with  such 
boldness  as  to  rob  Marsh  of  words.  Emerson  went  on 
in  the  same  level  voice:  "I  broke  through  in  spite  of 
you,  and  I'm  on  the  job.  If  you  want  to  cry  quits,  I'm 
willing;  but,  by  God!  I  won't  be  balked,  and  if  any  of 
your  hired  marshals  try  to  take  me  before  I  put  up  my 
catch  I'll  put  you  away.  Understand  ?  " 

Willis  Marsh  recoiled  involuntarily  before  the  sudden 
ferocity  that  blazed  up  in  the  speaker's  face.  "You 
are  insane,"  he  cried. 

"Am  I?"  Emerson  laughed,  harshly.  "Well,  I'm 
just  crazy  enough  to  do  what  I  say.  I  don't  think 
you're  the  kind  that  wants  hand-to-hand  trouble,  so 
let's  each  attend  to  his  own  affair.  I'm  doing  well, 
thank  you,  and  I  think  I  can  get  along  better  if  you 
don't  come  back  here  until  I  send  for  you.  Something 
might  fall  on  you." 

268 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Marsh's  full,  red  lips  went  pallid  with  rage  as  he  said, 
"Then  it  is  to  be  war,  eh?" 

"  Suit  yourself."  Boyd  pointed  to  the  shore.  "  Your 
boatman  is  waiting  for  you." 

As  Marsh  made  his  way  to  the  water's  edge  he  stum 
bled  like  a  blind  man;  his  lips  were  bleeding  where  his 
small,  sharp  teeth  had  bitten  them,  and  he  panted  like 
an  hysterical  woman. 

During  the  next  fortnight  the  sailing-ships  began  to 
assemble,  standing  in  under  a  great  spread  of  canvas 
to  berth  close  alongside  the  two  steamships;  for,  once 
the  ice  had  moved  north,  there  was  no  further  obstacle 
to  their  coming,  and  the  harbor  was  soon  livened  with 
puffing  tugs,  unwieldy  lighters,  and  fleets  of  smaller 
vessels.  Where,  but  a  short  time  before,  the  brooding 
silence  had  been  undisturbed  save  for  the  plaint  of 
wolf-dogs  and  the  lazy  voices  of  natives,  a  noisy  army 
was  now  at  work.  The  bustle  of  a  great  preparation 
arose;  languid  smoke- wreaths  began  to  unfurl  above 
the  stacks  of  the  canneries;  the  stamp  and  clank  of 
tin-machines  re-echoed ;  hammer  and  saw  maintained  a 
never-ceasing  hubbub.  Down  at  the  new  plant  scows 
were  being  launched  while  yet  the  pitch  was  warm  on 
their  seams;  buildings  were  rising  rapidly,  and  a  crew 
had  gone  up  the  river  to  get  out  a  raft  of  piles. 

On  the  morning  after  the  arrival  of  the  last  ship, 
Emerson  and  his  companions  were  treated  to  a  genuine 
surprise.  Cherry  had  come  down  to  the  site  as  usual — 
she  could  not  let  a  day  go  by  without  visiting  the  place 
— and  Clyde,  after  a  tardy  breakfast,  had  just  come 
ashore.  They  were  watching  Big  George  direct  the 
launching  of  a  scow,  when  all  of  a  sudden  they  heard 
a  familiar  voice  behind  them  cry,  cheerfully : 

"  Hello,  white  folks!  Here  we  are,  all  together  again." 
269 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

They  turned  to  behold  a  villanous  -  looking  man 
beaming  benignly  upon  them.  He  was  dirty,  his 
clothes  were  in  rags,  and  through  a  riotous  bristle  of 
beard  that  hid  his  thin  features  a  mangy  patch 
showed  on  either  cheek.  It  was  undeniably  "  Finger- 
less  "  Fraser,  but  how  changed,  how  altered  from  that 
radiant  flower  of  indolence  they  had  known!  He  was 
pallid,  emaciated,  and  bedraggled;  his  attitude  showed 
hunger  and  abuse,  and  his  bony  joints  seemed  about  to 
pierce  through  their  tattered  covering.  As  they  stood 
speechless  with  amazement,  he  made  his  identification 
complete  by  protruding  his  tongue  from  the  corner  of 
his  mouth  and  gravely  closing  one  eye  in  a  wink  of 
exceeding  wisdom. 

"Fraser!"  they  cried  in  chorus,  then  fell  upon  him 
noisily,  shaking  his  grimy  hands  and  slapping  his  back 
until  he  coughed  weakly.  Summoned  by  their  shouts, 
Big  George  broke  in  upon  the  incoherent  greeting,  and 
at  sight  of  his  late  comrade  began  to  laugh  hoarsely. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  old  man!"  he  cried,  "but  how  did 
you  get  here?" 

Fraser  drew  himself  up  with  injured  dignity,  then 
spoke  in  dramatic  accents.  "  I  worked  my  way!"  He 
showed  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  tragically. 

"  You  look  like  you'd  walked  in  from  Kansas,"  George 
declared. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  worked!     Me!" 

"How?     Where?" 

"  On  that  bloody  wind-jammer."  He  stretched  a 
long  arm  toward  the  harbor  in  a  theatrical  gesture. 

"But  the  police?"  queried  Boyd. 

"Oh,  I  squared  them  easy.  It's  you  they  want. 
Yes,  sir,  I  worked."  Again  he  scanned  their  faces 
anxiously.  "I'm  a  scullery-maid." 

270 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"What?" 

"That's  what  I  said.  I've  rustled  garbage-cans  till 
the  smell  of  food  gives  me  a  cold  sweat.  I'm  as  hungry 
as  a  starving  Cuban,  and  yet  the  sight  of  a  knife  and 
fork  turns  my  stomach."  He  wheeled  suddenly  upon 
Alton  Clyde,  whose  burst  of  shrill  laughter  offended 
him.  "Don't  cry.  Your  sympathy  unmans  me." 

"Tell  us  about  it,"  urged  Cherry. 

"What's  the  use?"  he  demanded,  with  a  glare  at 
Clyde.  "That  bone-head  wouldn't  understand." 

"Go  ahead,"  Boyd  seconded,  with  twitching  lips. 
"You  look  as  if  you  had  worked,  and  worked  hard." 

"  Hard  ?  I'm  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  knows 
what  hard  work  is!" 

"Start  at  the  beginning — when  you  were  arrested." 

"Well,  I  didn't  care  nothing  about  the  sneeze,"  he 
took  up  the  tale,  "  for  I  figure  it  out  that  they  can't 
slough  me  without  clearing  you,  so  I  never  take  no 
sleeping-powders,  and,  sure  enough,  about  third  drink- 
time  the  bulls  spring  me,  and  I  screw  down  the  main 
stem  to  the  drink  and  get  Jerry  to  your  fade — 

"  Tell  it  straight,"  interrupted  Cherry.  "  They  don't 
understand  you." 

"Well,  there  ain't  any  Pullmans  running  to  this 
resort,  so  I  stow  away  on  a  coal-burner,  but  somebody 
flags  me.  Then  I  try  to  hire  out  as  a  fisherman,  but  I 
ain't  there  with  the  gang  talk  and  my  stuff  drags,  so  I 
fix  it  for  a  hide-away  on  The  Blessed  Isle — that's  her 
name.  Can  you  beat  that  for  a  monaker  ?  This  sailor 
of  mine  goes  good  to  grub  me,  but  he  never  shows  for 
forty-eight  hours — or  years,  I  forget  which.  Anyhow, 
I  stand  it  as  long  as  I  can,  then  I  dig  my  way  up  to  a 
hatch  and  mew  like  a  house-cat.  It  seems  they  were 
hep  from  the  start,  and  battened  me  down  on  purpose, 

271 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

then  made  book  on  how  long  I'd  stay  hid.  Oh,  it's  a 
funny  joke,  and  they  all  get  a  stomach  laugh  when  I 
show.  When  I  offer  to  pay  my  way  they're  insulted. 
Nix!  that  ain't  their  graft.  They  wouldn't  take  money 
from  a  stranger.  Oh,  no!  They  permit  me  to  work 
my  way.  The  scullion  has  quit,  see?  So  they  pro 
mote  me  to  his  job.  It's  the  only  job  I  ever  held, 
and  I  held  it  because  it  wouldn't  let  go  of  me,  savvy  ? 
There's  only  three  hundred  men  aboard  The  Blessed 
Isle,  so  all  I  have  to  do,  regular,  is  to  understudy  the 
cooks,  carry  the  grub,  wait  on  table,  wash  the  dishes, 
mop  the  floors,  make  the  officers'  beds,  peel  six  bushels 
of  potatoes  a  day,  and  do  the  laundry.  Then,  of  course, 
there's  some  odd  tasks.  Oh,  it  was  a  swell  job — more 
like  a  pastime.  When  a  mop  sees  me  coming  now  it 
dances  a  hornpipe,  and  I  can't  look  a  dish-rag  in  the 
face.  All  I  see  in  my  dreams  is  potato-parings  and 
meat-rinds.  I've  got  dish-water  in  my  veins,  and  the 
whole  universe  looks  greasy  to  me.  Naturally  it  was 
my  luck  to  pick  the  slowest  ship  in  the  harbor.  We 
lay  three  weeks  in  the  ice,  that's  all,  and  nobody  worked 
but  me  and  the  sea-gulls." 

"You  deserted  this  morning,  eh?" 

' '  I  did.  I  beat  the  barrier,  and  now  I  want  a  bath 
and  some  clean  clothes  and  a  whole  lot  of  sleep.  You 
don't  need  to  disturb  me  till  fall." 

He  showed  no  interest  whatever  in  the  new  plant, 
refusing  even  to  look  it  over  or  to  express  an  opinion 
upon  the  progress  of  the  work;  so  they  sent  him  out  to 
the  ship,  where  for  days  he  remained  in  a  toad-like 
lethargy,  basking  in  the  sun,  sleeping  three-fourths  of 
the  time  and  spending  his  waking  hours  in  repeating  the 
awful  tale  of  his  disgraceful  peonage. 

To  unload  the  machinery,  particularly  the  heavier 
272 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

pieces,  was  by  no  means  a  simple  matter,  owing  to  the 
furious  tides  that  set  in  and  out  of  the  Kalvik  River. 
The  first  mishap  occurred  during  the  trip  on  which  the 
boilers  were  towed  in,  and  it  looked  to  Boyd  less  like 
an  accident  than  a  carefully  planned  move  to  cripple 
him  at  one  stroke.  The  other  ships  were  busily  dis 
charging  and  the  roadstead  was  alive  with  small  craft 
of  various  kinds,  when  the  huge  boilers  were  swung  over 
the  side  of  The  Bedford  Castle  and  blocked  into  posi 
tion  for  the  journey  to  the  shore.  George  and  a  half- 
dozen  of  his  men  went  along  with  the  load  while  Emer 
son  remained  on  the  ship.  They  were  just  well  under 
way  when,  either  by  the  merest  chance  or  by  malicious 
design,  several  of  the  rival  Company's  towboats  moored 
to  the  neighboring  ships  cast  off.  The  anchorage  was 
crowded  and  a  boiling  six-mile  tide  made  it  difficult 
at  best  to  avoid  collision. 

Hearing  a  confused  shouting  to  shoreward,  Boyd 
ran  to  the  rail  in  time  to  see  one  of  the  Company 
tugs  at  the  head  of  a  string  of  towboats  bearing  down 
ahead  of  the  current  directly  upon  his  own  slow- 
moving  lighter.  Already  it  was  so  close  at  hand  as 
to  make  disaster  seem  inevitable.  He  saw  Bait  wave 
his  arms  furiously  and  heard  him  bellow  profane  warn 
ings  while  the  fishermen  scurried  about  excitedly,  but 
still  the  tug  held  to  its  course.  Boyd  raised  his  voice 
in  a  wild  alarm,  but  had  they  heard  him  there  was 
nothing  they  could  have  done.  Then  suddenly  the 
affair  altered  its  complexion. 

The  oncoming  tug  was  barely  twice  its  length  from 
the  scow  when  Boyd  saw  Big  George  cease  his  violent 
antics  and  level  a  revolver  directly  at  the  wheel-house 
of  the  opposing  craft.  Two  puffs  of  smoke  issued  from 
the  weapon,  then  out  from  the  glass-encased  structure 

273 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  steersman  plunged,  scrambled  down  the  deck  and 
into  the  shelter  of  the  house.  Instantly  the  bow  of 
the  tug  swung  off,  and  she  came  on  sidewise,  striking 
Bait's  scow  a  glancing  blow,  the  sound  of  which  rose 
above  the  shouts,  while  its  force  threw  the  big  fellow 
and  his  companions  to  their  knees  and  shattered  the 
glass  in  the  pilot-house  windows.  The  boats  behind 
fouled  each  other,  then  drifted  down  upon  the  scow, 
and  the  tide,  seizing  the  whole  flotilla,  began  to  spin  it 
slowly.  Rushing  to  the  ladder,  Emerson  leaped  into 
another  launch  which  fortunately  was  at  hand,  and  the 
next  instant  as  the  little  craft  sped  out  from  the  side  of 
The  Bedford  Castle,  he  saw  that  a  fight  was  in  progress 
on  the  lighter.  It  was  over  quickly,  and  before  he 
reached  the  scene  the  current  had  drifted  the  tows 
apart.  George,  it  seemed,  had  boarded  the  tug,  dragged 
the  captain  off,  and  beaten  him  half  insensible  before 
the  man's  companions  had  come  to  his  rescue. 

"  Is  the  scow  damaged?"  Emerson  cried,  as  he  came 
alongside. 

"  She's  leaking,  but  I  guess  we  can  make  it,"  George 
reassured  him. 

They  directed  the  second  launch  to  make  fast,  and, 
towed  by  both  tugs,  they  succeeded  in  beaching  their 
cargo  a  mile  below  the  landing. 

"  We'll  calk  her  at  low  tide,"  George  declared,  well 
satisfied  at  this  outcome  of  the  misadventure.  Then 
he  fell  to  reviling  the  men  who  had  caused  it. 

"Don't  waste  your  breath  on  them,"  Boyd  advised. 
"We're  lucky  enough  as  it  is.  If  that  tug  hadn't 
sheered  off  she  would  have  cut  us  down,  sure." 

"That  fellow  done  it  a-purpose,"  George  swore. 
"  Seamen  ain't  that  careless.  He  tried  to  tell  me  he 
was  rattled,  but  I  rattled  him." 

274 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"If  that's  the  case  they  may  try  it  again,"  said  the 
younger  man. 

"  Huh!  I'll  pack  a  '  thirty-thirty'  from  now  on,  and 
I  bet  they  don't  get  within  hailing  distance  without  an 
iron-clad." 

The  more  calmly  Emerson  regarded  the  incident, 
the  more  he  marvelled  at  the  good-fortune  that  had 
saved  him.  "  We  had  better  wake  up,"  he  said.  "  We 
have  been  asleep  so  far.  If  Marsh  planned  this,  he  will 
plan  something  more." 

"  Yes,  and  if  he  puts  one  wallop  over  we're  done  for," 
George  agreed,  pessimistically.  "  I'll  keep  a  watch 
man  aboard  the  scows  hereafter.  That's  our  vital 
spot." 

But  the  days  sped  past  without  further  interference, 
and  the  construction  of  the  plant  progressed  by  leaps 
and  bounds,  while  The  Bedford  Castle,  having  discharged 
her  cargo,  steamed  away  to  return  in  August. 

The  middle  of  June  brought  the  first  king  salmon, 
scouts  sent  on  ahead  of  the  "sockeyes;"  but  Boyd 
made  no  effort  to  take  advantage  of  this  run,  laboring 
manfully  to  prepare  for  the  advance  of  the  main  army, 
that  terrific  horde  that  was  soon  to  come  from  the 
mysterious  depths,  either  to  make  or  ruin  him.  Once 
the  run  proper  started,  there  would  be  no  more  oppor 
tunity  for  building  or  for  setting  up  machinery.  He 
must  be  ready  and  waiting  by  the  first  of  July. 

For  some  time  his  tin-machines  had  been  busy,  night 
and  day,  turning  out  great  heaps  of  gleaming  cans, 
while  the  carpenters  and  machinists  completed  their 
tasks.  The  gill-netters  were  overhauling  their  gear, 
the  beach  was  lined  with  fishing-boats.  On  the  dock 
great  piles  of  seines  and  drift-nets  were  being  inspected. 
Three  miles  below,  Big  George,  with  a  picked  crew  and 

275 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

a  pile-driver,  was  building  the  fish-trap.  It  consisted 
of  half-mile  "leads,"  or  rows  of  piling,  capped  with 
stringers,  upon  which  netting  was  hung,  and  terminated 
in  "hearts,"  "corrals,"  and  "spillers,"  the  intricate  ar 
rangements  of  webbing  and  timbers  out  of  which  the 
fish  were  to  be  taken. 

It  was  for  the  title  to  the  ground  where  his  present 
operations  were  going  forward  that  George  had  been 
so  cruelly  disciplined  by  the  "interests;"  and  while 
he  had  held  stubbornly  to  his  rights  for  years  in  spite 
of  the  bitterest  persecution,  he  was  now  for  the  first 
time  able  to  utilize  his  site.  Accordingly  his  exulta 
tion  was  tremendous. 

As  for  Boyd,  the  fever  in  his  veins  mounted  daily  as 
he  saw  his  dream  assuming  concrete  form.  The  many 
problems  arising  as  the  work  advanced  afforded  him 
unceasing  activity;  the  unforeseen  obstacles  which 
were  encountered  hourly  required  swift  and  certain 
judgment,  taxing  his  ingenuity  to  the  utmost.  He 
became  so  filled  with  it  all,  so  steeped  with  the  spirit  of 
his  surroundings,  that  he  had  thought  for  nothing  else. 
Every  dawn  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  battle, 
every  twilight  heralded  another  council.  His  duties 
swamped  him;  he  was  worried,  exultant,  happy. 
Always  he  found  Cherry  at  his  shoulder,  unobtrusive 
and  silent  for  the  most  part,  yet  intensely  observant 
and  keenly  alive  to  every  action.  She  seemed  to  have 
the  faculty  of  divination,  knowing  when  to  be  silent 
and  when  to  join  her  mood  with  his,  and  she  gave 
him  valuable  help;  for  she  possessed  a  practical  mind 
and  a  masculine  aptitude  for  details  that  surprised  both 
him  and  George.  But,  rapidly  as  the  work  progressed, 
it  seemed  that  good-fortune  would  never  smile  upon 
them  for  long.  One  day,  when  their  preparations  were 

276 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

nearly  completed,  a  foreman  came  to  Boyd,  and  said, 
excitedly : 

"  Boss,  I'd  like  you  to  look  at  the  Iron  Chinks  right 
away." 

"What's  up?" 

"  I  don't  know,  but  something  is  wrong."  A  hurried 
examination  showed  the  machines  to  be  cunningly 
crippled;  certain  parts  were  entirely  missing,  while 
others  were  broken. 

"  They  were  all  right  when  we  brought  them  ashore,'' 
the  man  declared.  "Somebody's  been  at  them 
lately." 

"  When  ?  How  ?"  questioned  Boyd.  "  We  have  had 
watchmen  on  guard  all  the  time.  Have  any  strangers 
been  about?" 

"  Nobody  seems  to  know.  When  we  got  ready  to  set 
'em  just  now,  I  saw  this." 

The  Iron  Chink,  or  mechanical  cleaner,  is  perhaps 
the  most  ingenious  of  the  many  labor-saving  devices 
used  in  the  salmon  fisheries.  It  is  an  awkward-looking, 
yet  very  effective  contrivance  of  revolving  knives  and 
conveyors  which  seizes  the  fish  whole  and  delivers  it 
cleaned,  clipped,  cut,  and  ready  to  be  washed.  With 
superhuman  dexterity  it  does  the  work  of  twenty 
lightning-like  butchers.  Without  the  aid  of  these  Iron 
Chinks,  Boyd  knew  that  his  fish  would  spoil  before 
they  could  be  handled.  In  a  panic,  he  pursued  his  in 
vestigation  far  enough  to  realize  that  the  machines  were 
beyond  repair;  that  what  had  seemed  at  first  a  trivial 
mishap  was  in  fact  an  appalling  disaster.  Then,  since 
his  own  experience  left  him  without  resource,  he  hasten 
ed  straightway  to  George  Bait.  A  half-hour's  run  down 
the  bay  and  he  clambered  from  his  launch  to  the  pile- 
driver,  where,  amid  the  confusion  and  noise,  he  made 

277 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

known  his  tidings.     The  big  fellow's  calmness  amazed 

him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?" 

"Butcher  by  hand,"  said  the  fisherman. 

"But  how?     That  takes  skilled  labor— lots  of  it." 

George  grinned.     "  I'm  too  old  a  bird  to  be  caught 

like  this.     I  figured  on  accidents  from  the  start,  and 

when   I   hired   my   Chinamen   I   included   a   crew   of 

cutters." 

"By  Jove,  you  never  told  me!" 

"There  wasn't  no  use.     We  ain't  licked  yet,  not  by 

a  damned  sight.     Willis  Marsh  will  have  to  try  again." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A    HAND    IN    THE    DARK 

WHILE  they  were  talking  a  tug-boat  towing  a  pile- 
driver  came  into  view.     Boyd  asked  the  mean 
ing  of  its  presence  in  this  part  of  the  river. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Big  George,  staring 
intently.  "  Yonder  looks  like  another  one  behind  it, 
with  a  raft  of  piles." 

"  I  thought  all  the  Company  traps  were  up-stream." 

"So  they  are.     I  can't  tell  what  they're  up  to." 

A  half -hour  later,  when  the  new  flotilla  had  come  to 
anchor  a  short  distance  below,  Emerson's  companion 
began  to  swear 

"  I  might  have  known  it." 

"What?" 

"Marsh  aims  to  'cork'  us." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  He's  going  to  build  a  trap  on  each  side  of  this  one 
and  cut  off  our  fish." 

"Good  Lord!     Can  he  do  that?" 

"Sure.  Why  not?  The  law  gives  us  six  hundred 
yards  both  ways.  As  long  as  he  stays  outside  of  that 
limit  he  can  do  anything  he  wants  to." 

"  Then  of  what  use  is  our  trap  ?  The  salmon  follow 
definite  courses  close  to  the  shore,  and  if  he  intercepts 
them  before  they  reach  us — why,  then  we'll  get  only 
what  he  lets  through." 

xo  279 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"That's  his  plan,"  said  Big  George,  sourly.  "It's 
an  old  game,  but  it  don't  always  work.  You  can't  tell 
what  salmon  will  do  till  they  do  it.  I've  studied  this 
point  of  land  for  five  years,  and  I  know  more  about  it 
than  anybody  else  except  God  'Imighty.  If  the  fish 
hug  the  shore,  then  we're  up  against  it,  but  I  think  they 
strike  in  about  here;  that's  why  I  chose  this  site.  We 
can't  tell,  though,  till  the  run  starts.  All  we  can  do 
now  is  see  that  them  people  keep  their  distance." 

The  "lead"  of  a  salmon- trap  consists  of  a  row  of 
web-hung  piling  that  runs  out  from  the  shore  for  many 
hundred  feet,  forming  a  high,  stout  fence  that  turns 
the  schools  of  fish  and  leads  them  into  cunningly  con 
trived  enclosures,  or  "pounds,"  at  the  outer  extremity, 
from  which  they  are  "brailed"  as  needed.  These 
corrals  are  so  built  that  once  the  fish  are  inside  they 
cannot  escape.  The  entire  structure  is  devised  upon 
the  principle  that  the  salmon  will  not  make  a  short 
turn,  but  will  swim  as  nearly  as  possible  in  a  straight 
line.  It  looked  to  Boyd  as  if  Marsh,  by  blocking  the 
line  of  progress  above  and  below,  had  virtually  de 
stroyed  the  efficiency  of  the  new  trap,  rendering  the 
cost  of  its  construction  a  total  loss. 

"  Sometimes  you  can  cork  a  trap  and  sometimes  you 
can't,"  Bait  went  on.  "  It  all  depends  on  the  currents, 
the  lay  of  the  bars,  and  a  lot  of  things  we  don't  know 
nothing  about.  I've  spent  years  in  trying  to  locate 
the  point  where  them  fish  strike  in,  and  I  think  it's 
just  below  here.  It  '11  all  depend  on  how  good  I 
guessed." 

"  Exactly!     And  if  you  guessed  wrong — " 

"Then  we'll  fish  with  nets,  like  we  used  to  before 
there  was  any  traps." 

That  evening,  when  he  had  seen  the  night  -  shift 
280 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

started,  Emerson  decided  to  walk  up  to  Cherry's 
house,  for  he  was  worried  over  the  day's  developments 
and  felt  that  an  hour  of  the  girl's  society  might  serve 
to  clear  his  thoughts.  His  nerves  were  high-strung  from 
the  tension  of  the  past  weeks,  and  he  knew  himself  in 
the  condition  of  an  athlete  trained  to  the  minute.  In 
his  earlier  days  he  had  frequently  felt  the  same  nervous 
ness,  the  same  intense  mental  activity,  just  prior  to  an 
important  race  or  game,  and  he  was  familiar  with  those 
disquieting,  panicky  moments  when,  for  no  apparent 
reason,  his  heart  thumped  and  a  physical  sickness 
mastered  him.  He  knew  that  the  fever  would  leave 
him,  once  the  salmon  began  to  run,  just  as  it  had  al 
ways  vanished  at  the  crack  of  the  starter's  pistol  or  the 
shrill  note  of  the  referee's  whistle.  He  was  eager  for 
action,  eager  to  find  himself  possessed  of  that  gloating, 
gruelling  fury  that  drives  men  through  to  the  finish 
line.  Meanwhile,  he  was  anxious  to  divert  his  mind 
into  other  channels. 

Cherry's  house  was  situated  a  short  distance  above 
the  cannery  which  served  as  Willis  Marsh's  headquarters, 
and  Boyd's  path  necessarily  took  him  past  his  enemy's 
very  stronghold.  Finding  the  tide  too  high  to  permit 
of  passing  beneath  the  dock,  he  turned  up  among  the 
buildings,  where,  to  his  surprise,  he  encountered  his 
own  day-foreman  talking  earnestly  with  a  stranger. 

The  fisherman  started  guiltily  as  he  saw  him,  and 
Boyd  questioned  him  sharply. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Larsen?" 

41 1  just  walked  up  after  supper  to  have  a  talk  with 
an  old  mate." 

"Who  is  he?"  Boyd  glanced  suspiciously  at  Larsen's 
companion. 

"He's  Mr.  Marsh's  foreman." 
281 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Emerson  spoke  out  bluntly :  "  See  here.  I  don't  like 
this.  These  people  have  caused  me -a  lot  of  trouble 
already,  and  I  don't  want  my  men  hanging  around 
here." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Larsen,  carelessly. 
"Him  and  me  used  to  fish  together."  And  as  if  this 
were  a  sufficient  explanation,  he  turned  back  to  his 
conversation,  leaving  Emerson  to  proceed  on  his  way, 
vaguely  displeased  at  the  episode,  yet  reflecting  that 
heretofore  he  had  never  had  occasion  to  doubt  Larsen 's 
loyalty. 

He  found  Cherry  at  home,  and,  flinging  himself  into 
one  of  her  easy-chairs,  relieved  his  mind  of  the  day's 
occurrences. 

"Marsh  is  building  those  traps  purely  out  of  spite," 
she  declared,  indignantly,  when  he  had  finished.  "  He 
doesn't  need  any  more  fish — he  has  plenty  of  traps 
farther  up  the  river." 

' '  To  be  sure !  It  looks  as  if  we  might  have  to  depend 
upon  the  gill-netters." 

"  We  will  know  before  long.  If  the  fish  strike  in  where 
George  expects,  Marsh  will  be  out  a  pretty  penny." 

"  And  if  they  don't  strike  in  where  George  expects, 
we  will  be  out  all  the  expense  of  building  that  trap." 

"Exactly!  It's  a  fascinating  business,  isn't  it?  It's 
a  business  in  which  the  unexpected  is  forever  happen 
ing.  But  the  stakes  are  high  and — I  know  you  will 
succeed." 

Boyd  smiled  at  her  comforting  assurance;  her  belief 
in  him  was  always  stimulating. 

" By-the-way,"  she  continued,  "have  you  heard  the 
historic  story  about  the  pink  salmon?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  there  was  a  certain  shrewd  old  cannery-man 
282 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

in  Washington  State  whose  catch  consisted  almost 
wholly  of  pink  fish.  As  you  know,  that  variety  does 
not  bring  as  high  a  price  as  red  salmon,  like  these. 
Well,  finding  that  he  could  not  sell  his  catch,  owing  to 
the  popular  prejudice  about  color,  this  man  printed  a 
lot  of  striking  can-labels,  which  read,  '  Best  Grade  Pink 
Salmon,  Warranted  not  to  Turn  Red  in  the  Can.' 
They  tell  me  it  worked  like  a  charm." 

"No  wonder!"  Boyd  laughed,  beginning  to  feel 
the  tension  of  his  nerves  relax  at  the  restfulness  of  her 
influence.  As  usual,  he  fell  at  once  into  the  mood  she 
desired  for  him.  He  saw  that  her  brows  were  furrowed 
and  her  rosy  lips  drawn  into  an  unconscious  pout  as 
she  said,  more  to  herself  than  to  him: 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  man.  I'd  like  to  engage  in  a  busi 
ness  of  this  sort,  something  that  would  require  in 
genuity  and  daring.  I'd  like  to  handle  big  affairs." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  in  a  business  of  that 
sort.  You  are  one  of  us." 

"Oh,  but  you  and  George  are  doing  it  all." 

"There  is  your  copper-mine.  You  surely  handled 
that  very  cleverly." 

Cherry's  expression  altered,  and  she  shot  a  quick 
glance  at  him  as  he  went  on: 

"How  is  it  coming  along,  by-the-way?  I  haven't 
heard  you  mention  it  lately?" 

"  Very  well,  I  believe.  The  men  were  down  the 
other  day,  and  told  me  it  was  a  big  thing." 

"I'm  delighted.     How  does  it  seem,  to  be  rich?" 

There  was  the  slightest  hint  of  constraint  in  the  girl's 
voice  as  she  stared  out  at  the  slowly  gathering  twilight, 
murmuring: 

"  I — I  hardly  know.  Rich !  That  has  always  been 
my  dream,  and  yet — 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"The  wonderful  feature  about  dreams,"  he  took 
advantage  of  her  pause  to  say,  "  is  that  they  come 
true." 

"  Not  all  of  them — not  the  real,  wonderful  dreams," 
she  returned. 

"Oh  yes!  My  dream  is  coming  true,  and  so  is 
yours." 

"I  have  given  up  hoping  for  that,"  she  said,  with 
out  turning. 

"  But  you  shouldn't  give  up.  Remember  that  all 
the  great  things  ever  accomplished  were  only  dreams 
at  first,  and  the  greater  the  accomplishments,  the  more 
impossible  they  seemed  to  begin  with." 

Something  in  the  girl's  attitude  and  in  her  silence 
made  him  feel  that  his  words  rang  hollow  and  common 
place.  While  they  had  talked,  an  unaccustomed  ex 
citement  had  been  mounting  in  his  brain,  and  it  held 
him  now  in  a  kind  of  delicious  embarrassment.  It  was 
as  if  both  had  been  suddenly  enfolded  in  a  new  and 
mysterious  understanding,  without  the  need  of  speech. 
He  did  not  tell  himself  that  Cherry  loved  him;  but 
he  roused  to  a  fresh  perception  of  her  beauty,  and  felt 
himself  privileged  in  her  nearness.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  seized  with  the  old,  half-resentful  curiosity  to 
learn  her  history.  What  wealth  of  romance  lay  shad 
owed  in  her  eyes,  what  tragic  story  was  concealed  by 
her  consistent  silence,  he  could  only  guess;  for  she 
was  a  woman  who  spoke  rarely  of  herself  and  lived 
wholly  in  the  present.  Her  very  reticence  inspired 
confidence,  and  Boyd  felt  sure  that  here  was  a  girl 
to  whom  one  might  confess  the  inmost  secrets  of  a 
wretched  soul  and  rest  secure  in  the  knowledge  that 
his  confession  would  be  inviolate  as  if  locked  in  the 
heart  of  mountains.  He  knew  her  for  a  steadfast 

284 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

friend,  and  he  felt  that  she  was  beautiful,  not  only  in 
face  and  form,  but  in  all  those  little  indescribable  man 
nerisms  which  stamp  the  individual.  And  this  girl 
was  here  alone  with  him,  so  close  that  by  stretching 
out  his  arms  he  might  enfold  her.  She  allowed  him 
to  come  and  go  at  will;  her  intimacy  with  him  was 
almost  like  that  of  an  unspoiled  boy — yet  different,  so 
different  that  he  thrilled  at  the  thought,  and  the  blood 
pounded  up  into  his  throat. 

It  may  have  been  the  unusual  ardor  of  his  gaze  that 
warmed  her  cheeks  and  brought  her  eyes  back  from 
the  world  outside.  At  any  rate,  she  turned,  flashing 
him  a  startled  glance  that  caused  his  pulse  to  leap 
anew.  Her  eyes  widened  and  a  flush  spread  slowly 
upward  to  her  hair,  then  her  lids  drooped,  as  if  weighted 
by  unwonted  shyness,  and  rising  silently,  she  went  past 
him  to  the  piano.  Never  before  had  she  surprised 
that  look  in  his  eyes,  and  at  the  realization  a  wave  of 
confusion  surged  over  her.  She  strove  to  calm  her 
self  through  her  music,  which  shielded  while  it  gave 
expression  to  her  mood,  and  neither  spoke  as  the  even 
ing  shadows  crept  in  upon  them.  But  the  girl's  exal 
tation  was  short-lived;  the  thought  came  that  Boyd's 
feeling  was  but  transitory ;  he  was  not  the  sort  to  burn 
lasting  incense  before  more  than  one  shrine.  Never 
theless,  at  this  moment  he  was  hers,  and  in  the  joy  of 
that  certainty  she  let  the  moments  slip. 

He  stopped  her  at  last,  and  they  talked  in  the  half- 
light,  floating  along  together  half  dreamily,  as  if  upon 
the  bosom  of  some  great  current  that  bore  them  into 
strange  regions  which  they  dreaded  yet  longed  to 
explore. 

They  heard  a  child  crying  somewhere  in  the  rear  of 
the  house,  and  Chakawana's  voice  soothing,  then  in 

285 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

a  moment  the  Indian  girl  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
saying  something  about  going  out  with  Constantine. 
Cherry  acquiesced  half  consciously,  impatient  of  the 
intrusion. 

For  a  long  time  they  talked,  so  completely  in  con 
cord  that  for  the  most  part  their  voices  were  low  and 
their  sentences  so  incomplete  that  they  would  have 
sounded  incoherent  and  foolish  to  other  ears.  They 
were  roused  finally  by  the  appreciation  that  it  had 
grown  very  late  and  a  storm  was  brewing.  Boyd 
rose,  and  going  to  the  door,  saw  that  the  sky  was  deeply 
overcast,  rendering  the  night  as  dark  as  in  a  far  lower 
latitude. 

"I've  overstayed  my  welcome,"  he  ventured,  and 
smiled  at  her  answering  laugh. 

With  a  trace  of  solicitude,  she  said: 

"Wait!  I'll  get  you  a  rain-coat,"  but  he  reached 
out  a  detaining  hand.  In  the  darkness  it  encountered 
the  bare  flesh  of  her  arm. 

"  Please  don't !  You'd  have  to  strike  a  light  to  find 
it,  and  I  don't  want  a  light  now." 

He  was  standing  on  the  steps,  with  her  slightly 
above  him,  and  so  close  that  he  heard  her  sharp-drawn 
breath. 

"  It  has  been  a  pleasant  evening,"  she  said,  in 
anely. 

"  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time  to-night,  Cherry.  I 
think  I  have  begun  to  know  you." 

Again  she  felt  her  heart  leap.  Reaching  out  to  say 
good-bye,  his  hand  slipped  down  over  her  arm,  like  a 
caress,  until  her  palm  lay  in  his. 

With  trembling,  gentle  hands  she  pushed  him  from 
her;  but  even  when  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  had 
died  away,  she  stood  with  eyes  straining  into  the 

286 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

gloom,  in  her  breast  a  gladness  so  stifling  that  she 
raised  her  hands  to  still  its  tumult. 

Emerson,  with  the  glow  still  upon  him,  felt  a  deep 
contentment  which  he  did  not  trouble  to  analyze. 
It  has  been  said  that  two  opposite  impulses  may  exist 
side  by  side  in  a  man's  mind,  like  two  hostile  armies 
which  have  camped  close  together  in  the  night,  unre- 
vealed  to  each  other  until  the  morning.  To  Emerson 
the  dawn  had  not  yet  come.  He  had  no  thought  of 
disloyalty  to  Mildred,  but,  after  his  fashion,  took  the 
feeling  of  the  moment  unreflectively.  His  mood  was 
averse  to  thought,  and,  moreover,  the  darkness  forced 
him  to  give  instant  attention  to  his  path.  While  the 
waters  of  the  bay  out  to  his  right  showed  a  ghostly 
gray,  objects  beneath  the  bluff  where  he  walked  were 
cloaked  in  impenetrable  shadow.  The  air  was  damp 
with  the  breath  of  coming  rain,  and  at  rare  intervals 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  torn  edges  of  clouds  hurry 
ing  ahead  of  a  wind  that  was  yet  unfelt. 

When  the  black  bulk  of  Marsh's  cannery  loomed 
ahead  of  him,  he  left  the  gravel  beach  and  turned  up 
among  the  buildings,  seeking  to  retrace  his  former 
course.  He  noticed  that  once  he  had  left  the  noisy 
shingle,  his  feet  made  no  sound  in  the  soft  moss.  Thus 
it  was  that,  as  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  first  building, 
he  nearly  ran  against  a  man  who  was  .standing  motion 
less  against  the  wall.  The  fellow  seemed  as  startled 
at  the  encounter  as  Emerson,  and  with  a  sharp  ex 
clamation  leaped  away  and  vanished  into  the  gloom. 
Boyd  lost  no  time  in  gaining  the  plank  runway  that 
led  to  the  dock,  and  finding  an  angle  in  the  building, 
backed  into  it  and  waited,  half-suspecting  that  he  had 
stumbled  into  a  trap.  He  reflected  that  both  the  hour 
and  the  circumstances  were  unpropitious;  for  in  case 

287 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

he  should  meet  with  foul  play,  Marsh  might  plausibly 
claim  that  he  had  been  mistaken  for  a  marauder.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  proceed  with  the  greatest  cau 
tion.  From  his  momentary  glimpse  of  the  man  as  he 
made  off,  he  knew  that  he  was  tall  and  active — just 
the  sort  of  person  to  prove  dangerous  in  an  encounter. 
But  if  his  suspicions  were  correct  there  must  be 
others  close  by,  and  Boyd  wondered  why  he  had 
heard  no  signal.  After  a  breathless  wait  of  a  moment 
or  two,  he  stole  cautiously  out,  and,  selecting  the  dark 
est  shadows,  slipped  from  one  to  another  till  he  was 
caught  by  the  sound  of  voices  issuing  from  the  yawn 
ing  entrance  of  the  main  building  on  his  right.  The 
next  moment  his  tension  relaxed;  one  of  the  speakers 
was  a  woman.  Evidently  his  alarm  had  been  needless, 
for  these  people,  whoever  they  were,  made  no  effort 
to  conceal  their  presence.  On  the  contrary,  the  woman 
had  raised  her  tone  to  a  louder  pitch,  although  her 
words  were  still  undistinguishable. 

Greatly  relieved,  Boyd  was  about  to  go  on,  when 
a  sharp  cry,  like  a  signal,  came  in  the  woman's  voice, 
a  cry  which  turned  to  a  genuine  wail  of  distress.  The 
listener  heard  a  man's  voice  cursing  in  answer,  and 
then  the  sound  of  a  scuffle,  followed  at  length  by  a 
choking  cry,  that  brought  him  bounding  into  the 
building.  He  ran  forward,  recklessly,  but  before  he 
had  covered  half  the  distance  he  collided  violently 
with  a  piece  of  machinery  and  went  sprawling  to  the 
floor.  A  glance  upward  revealed  the  dim  outlines  of  a 
"topper,"  and  showed  him  farther  down  the  building, 
silhouetted  briefly  against  the  lesser  darkness  of  the 
windows,  two  struggling  figures.  As  he  regained  his 
footing,  something  rushed  past  him — man  or  animal 
he  could  not  tell  which,  for  its  feet  made  no  more  sound 

288 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

upon  the  floor  than  those  of  a  wolf-dog.  Then,  as  he 
bolted  forward,  he  heard  a  man  cry  out,  and  found 
himself  in  the  midst  of  turmoil.  His  hands  encoun 
tered  a  human  body,  and  he  seized  it,  only  to  be  hurled 
aside  as  if  with  a  giant's  strength.  Again  he  clinched 
with  a  man's  form,  and  bore  it  to  the  floor,  cursing  at 
the  darkness  and  reaching  for  its  throat.  His  an 
tagonist  raised  his  voice  in  wild  clamor,  while  Boyd 
braced  himself  for  another  assault  from  those  huge 
hands  he  had  met  a  moment  before.  But  it  did  not 
come.  Instead,  he  heard  a  cry  from  the  woman,  an 
answer  in  a  deeper  voice,  and  then  swift,  pattering 
footsteps  growing  fainter.  Meanwhile  the  man  with 
whom  he  was  locked  was  fighting  desperately,  with 
hands  and  feet  and  teeth,  shouting  hoarsely.  Other 
footsteps  sounded  now,  this  time  approaching,  then 
at  the  door  a  lantern  flared.  A  watchman  came 
running  down  between  the  lines  of  machinery,  followed 
by  other  figures  half  revealed. 

Boyd  had  pinned  his  antagonist  against  the  cold 
sides  of  a  retort  at  last,  and  with  fingers  clutched  about 
his  throat  was  beating  his  head  violently  against  the 
iron,  when  by  the  lantern's  gleam  he  caught  one  glimpse 
of  the  fat,  purple  face  in  front  of  him,  and  loosed  his 
hold  with  a  startled  exclamation.  Released  from  the 
grip  that  had  nearly  made  an  end  of  him,  Willis  Marsh 
staggered  to  his  feet,  then  lurched  forward  as  if  about 
to  fall  from  weakness.  His  eyes  were  staring,  his 
blackened  tongue  protruded,  while  his  head,  battered 
and  bleeding,  lolled  grotesquely  from  side  to  side  as  if 
in  hideous  merriment.  His  clothes  were  torn  and 
soiled  from  the  litter  underfoot,  and  he  presented  a 
frightful  picture  of  distress.  But  it  was  not  this  that 
caused  Emerson  the  greatest  astonishment.  The  man 

289 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

was  wounded,  badly  wounded,  as  he  saw  by  the  red 
stream  which  gushed  down  over  his  breast.  Boyd  cast 
his  eyes  about  for  the  other  participants  in  the  en 
counter,  but  they  were  nowhere  visible;  only  an  open 
door  in  the  shadows  close  by  hinted  at  the  mode  of  their 
disappearance. 

There  was  a  brief,  noisy  interval,  during  which  Emer 
son  was  too  astounded  to  attempt  an  answer  to  the 
questions  hurled  broadcast  by  the  new-comers;  then 
Marsh  levelled  a  trembling  finger  at  him  and  cried, 
hysterically : 

"There  he  is,  men.  He  tried  to  murder  me.  I — 
I'm  hurt.  I'll  have  him  arrested." 

The  seriousness  of  the  accusation  struck  the  young 
man  on  the  instant;  he  turned  upon  the  group. 

"  I  didn't  do  that.  I  heard  a  fight  going  on  and  ran 
in  here—" 

"  He's  a  liar,"  the  wounded  man  interrupted,  shrilly. 
"He  stabbed  me!  See?"  He  tried  to  strip  the  shirt 
from  his  wounds,  then  fell  to  chattering  and  shaking. 
"  Oh,  God!  I'm  hurt."  He  staggered  to  a  packing-case 
and  sank  upon  it,  weakly  fumbling  at  his  sodden  shoulder. 

"  I  didn't  do  that,"  repeated  Boyd.  "  I  don't  know 
who  stabbed  him.  I  didn't." 

"Then  who  did?"  some  one  demanded. 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  here  ?  You'd  a  killed  him 
in  a  minute,"  said  the  man  with  the  lantern. 

"We'll  fix  you  for  this,"  a  third  voice  threatened. 

"Listen,"  Boyd  said,  in  a  tone  to  make  them  pause. 
"There  has  been  a  mistake  here.  I  was  passing  the 
building  when  I  heard  a  woman  scream,  and  I  rushed 
in  to  prevent  Marsh  from  choking  her  to  death." 

"A  woman!"  chorused  the  group. 

"That's  what  I  said." 

2QO 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Where  is  she  now?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  see  her  at  all.  I  grappled 
with  the  first  person  I  ran  into.  She  must  have  gone 
out  as  you  came  in."  Boyd  indicated  the  side  door, 
which  was  still  ajar. 

"  It's  a  lie,"  screamed  Marsh. 

"It's  the  truth,"  stoutly  maintained  Emerson,  "and 
there  was  a  man  with  her,  too.  Who  was  she,  Marsh  ? 
Who  was  the  man?" 

"She— she— I  don't  know." 

"Don't  lie." 

"I'm  hurt,"  reiterated  the  stricken  man,  feebly. 
Then,  seeing  the  bewilderment  in  the  faces  about  him, 
he  burst  out  anew:  "Don't  stand  there  like  a  lot  of 
fools.  Why  don't  you  get  him?" 

"  If  I  stabbed  him  I  must  have  had  a  knife,"  Emerson 
said,  again  checking  the  forward  movement.  "You 
may  search  me  if  you  like.  See  ?"  He  opened  his  coat 
and  displayed  his  belt. 

"He's  got  a  six-shooter,"  some  one  said. 

"Yes,  and  I  may  use  it,"  said  Emerson,  quietly. 

"Maybe  he  dropped  the  knife,"  said  the  watchman, 
and  began  to  search  about  the  floor,  followed  by  the 
others. 

"  It  may  have  been  the  woman  herself  who  stabbed 
Mr.  Marsh,"  offered  Emerson.  "  He  was  strangling 
her  when  I  arrived." 

Roused  by  this  statement  to  a  fresh  denial,  Marsh 
cried  out: 

"I  tell  you  there  wasn't  any  woman." 

"And  there  isn't  any  knife  either,"  Emerson  sneered. 

The  men  paused  uncertainly.  Seeing  that  they  were 
undecided  whether  to  believe  him  or  his  assailant, 
Marsh  went  on: 

391 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  If  he  hasn't  a  knife,  then  he  must  have  had  a  friend 
with  him — " 

"Then  tell  your  men  what  we  were  doing  in  here 
and  how  you  came  to  be  alone  with  us  in  the  dark." 
Emerson  stared  at  his  accuser  curiously,  but  the  Trust's 
manager  seemed  at  a  loss.  "  See  here,  Marsh,  if  you 
will  tell  us  whom  you  were  choking,  maybe  we  can  get 
at  the  truth  of  this  affair." 

Without  answering,  Marsh  rose,  and,  leaning  upon 
the  watchman's  arm,  said: 

"Help  me  up  to  the  house.  I'm  hurt.  Send  the 
launch  to  the  upper  plant  for  John;  he  knows  some 
thing  about  medicine."  With  no  further  word,  he 
made  his  way  out  of  the  building,  followed  by  the 
mystified  fishermen. 

No  one  undertook  to  detain  Emerson,  and  he  went 
his  way,  wondering  what  lay  back  of  the  night's  ad 
venture.  He  racked  his  brain  for  a  hint  as  to  the 
identity  of  the  woman  and  the  reason  of  her  presence 
alone  with  Marsh  in  such  a  place.  Again  he  thought 
of  that  mysterious  third  person  whose  movements  had 
been  so  swift  and  furious,  but  his  conjectures  left  him 
more  at  sea  than  ever.  Of  one  thing  he  felt  sure.  It 
was  not  enmity  alone  that  prompted  Marsh  to  accuse 
him  of  the  stabbing.  The  man  was  concealing  some 
thing,  in  deadly  fear  of  the  truth,  for  rather  than  sub 
mit  to  questioning  he  had  let  his  enemy  go  scot-free. 

Suddenly  Boyd  paused  in  his  walk,  recalling  again 
the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  figure  with  whom  he  had 
so  nearly  collided  on  his  way  up  from  the  beach. 
There  was  something  familiar  about  it,  he  mused;  then, 
with  a  low  whistle  of  surprise,  he  smote  his  palms  to 
gether.  He  began  to  see  dimly. 

For  more  than  an  hour  the  young  man  paced  back 
292 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  forth  before  the  door  of  his  sleeping-quarters,  so 
deeply  immersed  in  thought  that  only  the  breaking 
storm  drove  him  within.  When  at  last  he  retired,  it 
was  with  the  certainty  that  this  night  had  placed  a  new 
weapon  in  his  hand;  but  of  what  tremendous  value  it 
was  destined  to  prove,  he  little  knew. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    SILVER    HORDE 

THE  main  body  of  salmon  struck  into  the  Kalvik 
River  on  the  first  day  of  July.  For  a  week  past 
the  run  had  been  slowly  growing,  while  the  canneries 
tested  themselves ;  but  on  the  opening  day  of  the  new 
month  the  horde  issued  boldly  forth  from  the  depths 
of  the  sea,  and  the  battle  began  in  earnest.  They  came 
during  the  hush  of  the  dawn,  a  mad,  crowding  throng 
from  No  Man's  Land,  to  wake  the  tide-rips  and  people 
the  shimmering  reaches  of  he  bay,  lashing  them  to 
sudden  life  and  fury.  Outside,  the  languorous  ocean 
heaved  as  smiling  and  serene  as  ever,  but  within  the 
harbor  a  wondrous  change  occurred. 

As  if  in  answer  to  some  deep-sea  signal,  the  tides 
were  quickened  by  a  coursing  multitude,  steadfast  and 
unafraid,  yet  foredoomed  to  die  by  the  hand  of  man, 
or  else  more  surely  by  the  serving  of  their  destiny.  Clad 
in  their  argent  mail  of  blue  and  green,  they  worked  the 
bay  to  madness;  they  overwhelmed  the  waters,  surg 
ing  forward  in  great  droves  and  columns,  hesitating 
only  long  enough  to  frolic  with  the  shifting  currents, 
as  if  rejoicing  in  their  strength  and  beauty. 

At  times  they  swam  with  cleaving  fins  exposed; 
again  they  churned  the  placid  waters  until  swift  comb 
ers  raced  across  the  shallow  bars  like  tidal  waves, 

294 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

while  the  deeper  channels  were  shot  through  with 
shadowy  forms  or  pierced  by  the  lightning  glint  of 
silvered  bellies.  They  streamed  in  with  the  flood 
tide  to  retreat  again  with  the  ebb,  but  there  was  neither 
haste  nor  caution  in  their  progress;  they  had  come 
in  answer  to  the  breeding  call  of  the  sea,  and  its  exulta 
tion  was  upon  them,  driving  them  relentlessly  onward. 
They  had  no  voice  against  its  overmastering  spell. 

Mustering  in  the  early  light  like  a  swarm  of  giant 
white-winged  moths,  the  fishing-boats  raced  forth  with 
the  flowing  tide,  urged  by  sweep  and  sail  and  lusty 
sinews.  Paying  out  their  hundred-fathom  nets,  they 
drifted  over  the  banks  like  flocks  of  resting  sea-gulls, 
only  to  come  ploughing  back  again  deep  laden  with  their 
spoils.  Grimy  tugboats  lay  beside  the  traps,  shrilling 
the  air  with  creaking  winches  as  they  "brailed"  the 
struggling  fish,  a  half- ton  at  a  time,  from  the  "  pounds, " 
now  churned  to  milky  foam  by  the  ever-growing  throng 
of  prisoners;  and  all  the  time  the  big  plants  gulped 
the  sea  harvest,  faster  and  faster,  clanking  and  gnash 
ing  their  metal  jaws,  while  the  mounds  of  salmon  lay 
hip-deep  to  the  crews  that  fed  the  butchering  machines. 

The  time  had  come  for  man  to  take  his  toll. 

Now  dawned  a  period  of  feverish  activity  wherein 
no  one  might  rest  short  of  actual  exhaustion.  Haste 
became  the  cry,  and  comfort  fled. 

At  Emerson's  cannery  there  fell  a  sudden  panic,  for 
fifty  fishermen  quit.  Returning  from  the  banks  on 
the  night  before  the  run  started,  they  stacked  their 
gear  and  notified  Boyd  Emerson  of  their  determination. 
Then,  despite  his  utmost  efforts  to  dissuade  them,  they 
took  their  packs  upon  their  shoulders  and  marched  up 
the  beach  to  Willis  Marsh's  plant.  Larsen,  the  day- 
foreman,  acted  as  their  spokesman,  and  Boyd  recog- 

295 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

nized,  too  late,  the  result  of  that  conversation  he  had 
interrupted  on  the  night  of  his  visit  to  Cherry. 

This  defection  diminished  his  boat-crew  by  more 
than  half,  and  while  the  shoremen  stoutly  main 
tained  their  loyalty,  the  chance  of  putting  up  a  pack 
seemed  lost.  Success  or  failure  in  the  Behring  Sea 
fisheries  may  depend  upon  the  loss  of  a  day.  Emer 
son  found  himself  facing  a  situation  more  desperate 
than  any  heretofore ;  Marsh  had  delayed  the  execution 
of  his  plans  until  the  run  had  started,  and  there  was 
no  possibility  of  recruiting  a  new  force.  Alarmed  be 
yond  measure,  Boyd  swallowed  his  pride  and  went 
straightway  to  his  enemy.  He  found  Marsh  well  re 
covered  from  his  flesh-wound  of  a  week  or  more  before, 
yet  extremely  cautious  for  his  safety,  as  he  evidenced 
by  conducting  the  interview  before  witnesses. 

"We  are  short-handed,  and  I  gave  instructions  to 
secure  every  available  man,"  he  announced  at  the  con 
clusion  of  Emerson's  story.  "  It  is  not  my  fault  if  your 
men  prefer  to  work  for  me." 

"Then  you  force  me  to  retaliate,"  said  Boyd.  "I 
shall  hire  your  men  out  from  under  you." 

Marsh  laughed  provokingly. 

"Try  it!  I  am  a  good  organizer  if  nothing  else.  If 
you  send  emissaries  to  my  plants,  it  will  cause  certain 
violence — and  I  think  you  had  better  avoid  that,  for 
we  outnumber  you  ten  to  one." 

Stormy  accusations  and  retorts  followed,  till  Emer 
son  left  the  place  in  helpless  disgust. 

Nor  had  he  hit  upon  any  method  of  relief  when 
Cherry  came  down  to  the  plant  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  though  he  and  Big  George  had  spent  the  night  in 
conference.  She  lost  no  time  in  futile  indignation,  but 
inquired  straightway: 

296 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  What  are  you  doing  about  it  ?  The  fish  have  begun 
to  run,  and  you  can't  afford  to  lose  an  hour." 

"  I  have  sent  a  man  to  each  of  the  other  plants  to  hire 
fishermen  at  any  price,  but  I  have  no  hope  that  they 
will  succeed.  Marsh  has  his  crews  too  well  in  hand  for 
that." 

Cherry  nodded.  "They  wouldn't  dare  quit  him  now. 
He'd  never  let  them  return  to  this  country  if  they  did. 
Meanwhile,  the  rest  of  your  force  is  on  the  banks,  I 
presume." 

"Yes." 

"How  many  boats  have  you?" 

"Ten." 

"Heavens!  And  this  is  the  first  day  of  the  run!  It 
looks  bad,  doesn't  it?  Has  the  trap  begun  to  fill?" 

"No.  George  is  down  there  now.  I  guess  Marsh 
succeeded  in  corking  it.  Meanwhile  all  the  other 
plants  are  working  while  my  Chinks  are  playing  fan- 
tan." 

Cherry  gazed  curiously  at  her  companion ,  to  see  how 
he  accepted  this  latest  shift  of  fortune.  She  knew 
that  it  spelled  disaster;  for  a  light  catch,  with  the 
tremendous  financial  loss  entailed,  would  not  only  mean 
difficulty  with  Hilliard's  loan,  but  other  complications 
impossible  to  forecast.  Her  mind  sped  onward  to  the 
effect  of  a  failure  upon  Boyd's  private  affairs.  He  had 
told  her  in  unmistakable  terms  that  this  was  his  last 
chance,  the  final  hope  upon  which  hung  the  realization 
of  his  dreams.  In  some  way  his  power  to  hold  Mildred 
Wayland  was  bound  up  with  his  financial  success. 
If  he  should  lose  her,  where  would  he  turn  ?  she  asked 
herself,  and  something  within  her  answered  that  he 
would  look  for  consolation  to  the  woman  who  had 
stood  at  his  shoulder  all  these  weary  months.  Sud- 

297 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

den  emotion  swept  over  her  at  the  thought.  What 
cared  she  for  his  success  or  failure?  He  was  the  one 
man  she  had  ever  known,  the  mate  for  whom  she  had 
been  moulded.  If  this  were  his  last  chance,  it  promised 
to  be  the  opportunity  she  had  so  long  awaited ;  for  once 
that  other  was  out  of  his  mind,  Cherry  felt  that  he  would 
turn  to  her.  She  knew  it  intuitively,  knew  it  from  the 
light  she  had  seen  in  his  eyes  that  night  at  her  house, 
knew  it  by  the  promptings  of  her  own  heart  at  this 
moment.  She  began  to  tremble,  and  felt  her  breast 
swelling  with  a  glad  determination ;  but  he  interrupted 
her  night  of  fancy  with  a  sigh  of  such  hopeless  weariness 
that  her  pity  rose  instinctively.  He  gave  her  a  sad 
little  smile  as  he  said: 

"I  seem  to  bring  misfortune  upon  every  one  con 
nected  with  me,  don't  I?  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  poor 
sort." 

How  boyish  he  was,  the  girl  thought  tenderly,  yet 
how  splendidly  brave  he  had  been  throughout  the  fight ! 
There  was  a  voiceless,  maternal  yearning  in  her  heart 
as  she  asked  him,  gravely: 

"  If  you  fail  now,  it  will  mean — the  end  of  everything, 
will  it  not?" 

''Yes."  He  squared  his  tired  shoulders.  "But  I 
am  not  beaten  yet.  You  taught  me  never  to  give  up, 
Cherry.  If  I  have  to  go  back  home  without  a  catch 
and  see  Hilliard  take  this  plant  over,  why — I'll  begin 
once  more  at  something  new,  and  some  day  I  will 
succeed.  But  I  sha'n't  give  up.  I'll  can  what  salmon 
we  catch  and  then  begin  all  over  again  next  season." 

"  And — suppose  you  don't  succeed  ?  Suppose  Hil 
liard  won't  carry  you?" 

"Then  I  shall  try  something  else;  maybe  I  shall  go 
to  mining  again,  I  don't  know.  Anyhow,  she  would 

298 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

not  let  me  grow  disheartened  if  she  were  here,  she 
wouldn't  let  me  quit.  She  isn't  that  sort." 

Cherry  Malotte  stirred  and  shifted  her  gaze  uncer 
tainly  to  the  gleaming  bay.  Abreast  of  them  the  fleet 
of  fishing-boats  were  drifting  with  the  tide;  in  the 
distance  others  were  dotted,  clear  away  to  where  the 
opal  ocean  lay.  A  tug  was  passing,  and  she  saw  the 
sun  flash  from  the  cargo  in  its  tow,  while  the  faint  echo 
of  a  song  came  wafting  to  her  ears.  She  stood  so  for 
a  long  moment,  fighting  manfully  with  herself,  then 
wheeled  upon  him  suddenly.  There  was  a  new  tone 
in  her  voice  as  she  said: 

"  If  you  will  let  me  have  one  of  your  launches,  I 
may  be  able  to  help  you." 

"How?"  he  demanded,  quickly. 

"  Never  mind  how — it's  a  long  chance  and  hardly 
worth  trying,  but — may  I  take  the  boat?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  "  there's  one  lying  at  the  dock." 

He  led  her  to  the  shore  and  saw  her  aboard,  then 
waved  good-bye  and  walked  moodily  back  to  the  office, 
gratified  that  she  should  try  to  help  him,  yet  certain 
that  she  could  not  succeed  where  he  and  George  had 
failed. 

"  Fingerless  "  Fraser  had  breakfasted  late,  as  was  his 
luxurious  custom,  and  shortly  before  noon,  in  the  course 
of  his  dissatisfied  meanderings,  he  found  his  friend  in 
the  office,  lost  in  sombre  thought.  It  was  the  first 
time  in  many  weeks  that  he  had  seen  this  mood  in 
Boyd,  and  after  a  fruitless  effort  to  make  him  talk,  he 
fell  into  his  old  habit  of  imaginary  reading,  droning 
away  to  himself  as  if  from  a  printed  page: 

'  Your  stay  among  us  has  not  been  very  pleasant, 
has  it?'  Mr.  Emerson  inquired. 

299 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"'Not  so  that  you  could  notice  it,"  replied  our  hero. 
'I  don't  like  fish,  and  I  never  did.' 

" 'That  is  the  result  of  prejudice;  the  fish  is  a  noble 
animal,'  Mr.  Emerson  declared. 

"He's  not  an  animal  at  all,'  our  hero  gently  cor 
rected.  'He's  a  biped,  a  regular  wild  biped  without 
either  love  of  home  or  affection  for  his  children.  The 
salmon  is  of  a  low  order  of  intelligence,  and  has  a 
Queen  Anne  slant  to  his  roof.  No  person  with  a  re 
treating  forehead  like  that  knows  very  much.  The 
only  other  member  of  the  animal  kingdom  that  is  as 
foolish  as  the  salmon  is  Alton  Clyde.  The  fish  has  got 
a  shade  the  best  of  it  over  him;  but  as  for  friendship 
and  the  gentler  emotions — why,  the  salmon  hasn't  got 
them  at  all.  The  only  thing  he's  got  is  a  million  eggs 
and  a  sense  of  direction.  If  he  had  a  spark  of  intelli 
gence  he'd  lay  one  egg  a  year,  like  a  hen,  and  thus  live 
for  a  million  years.  But  does  he  ?  Not  on  your  Sarony ! 
He's  a  spendthrift,  and  turns  his  eggs  loose — a  hatful 
at  a  time.  He's  worse  than  a  shotgun.  And  then, 
too,  he's  as  clannish  as  a  Harvard  graduate,  and  don't 
associate  with  nobody  out  of  his  own  set.  No,  sir! 
Give  me  a  warm-blooded  animal  that  suckles  its  young. 
I'll  take  a  farmer,  every  time.' 

"'These  are  points  I  had  never  considered,'  said  Mr. 
Emerson,  'but  every  business  has  its  drawbacks,  you'll 
agree.  If  I  have  failed  as  a  host,  what  can  I  do  to 
entertain  you  while  you  grace  our  midst?' 

'"You  can  do  most  anything,'  remarked  his  hand 
some  companion.  'You  can  climb  a  tree,  or  do  any 
thing  except  fish  all  the  time.' 

"'But  it  is  a  dark  night  without,  and  I  fear  some 
mischief  is  afoot!' 

"'True!     But  yonder  beautcheous  gel — '" 
300 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Roused  by  the  familiarity  of  these  lines,  Emerson 
looked  up  from  his  preoccupation  and  smiled  at  Eraser's 
serious  pantomime. 

"Am  I  as  bad  as  all  that?"  he  inquired,  with  an 
effort  at  pleasantry. 

"You're  worse,  Bo!  I  guess  you  didn't  know  I  was 
here,  eh?" 

"  No.  By-the-way,  what  about  that  '  beautcheous 
gel'  and  the  mischief  that  is  afoot?  What  is  the  rest 
of  the  story?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  got  past  that  place.  Say! 
If  I  had  time,  I'll  bet  I  could  write  a  good  book.  I've 
got  plenty  to  say." 

"Why  don't  you  try  it?" 

"Too  busy!"  yawned  the  adventurer,  lazily.  "Gee, 
this  is  a  lonesome  burg !  Kalvik  is  sure  out  in  the  tall 
grass,  ain't  it?  I  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  break  a  pane  of 
glass.  Let's  start  something." 

"I  don't  find  it  particularly  dull  at  the  present 
moment."  Boyd  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"Oh,  I  heard  all  about  your  trouble.  I  just  left  the 
pest-house." 

"The  what?" 

"The  pest-house  —  Clyde's  joint.  Ain't  he  a 
calamity?" 

"In  what  way?" 

"Is  there  any  way  in  which  he  ain't?" 

"You  don't  like  him,  do  you?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  declared  "Fingerless"  Eraser  stoutly, 
"and  what's  more  I'm  glad  I  don't  like  him.  Because 
if  I  liked  him,  I'd  associate  with  him,  and  I  hate  him." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Well,  I  like  silence  and  quietude — I'm  a  fool  about 
my  quiet — but  Clyde — "  he  paused,  as  if  in  search  for 

301 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

suitable  expression.  "Well,  whenever  I  try  to  say 
anything  he  interrupts  me."  After  another  pause  he 
went  on :  "  He's  dead  sore  on  this  place,  too,  and  whines 
around  like  a  litter  of  pups.  He  says  he  was  misled 
into  coming  up  here,  and  has  a  hunch  he's  going  to  lose 
his  bank-roll." 

"Last  night's  episode  frightened  him,  I  dare  say." 

"  Yes.  Ever  since  he  got  that  wallop  on  the  burr  in 
Seattle  a  guinea  pig  could  lick  him  hand  to  hand. 
You'd  think  that  ten  thou'  he  put  up  was  all  the  wealth 
of  the  Inkers." 

"The  wealth  of  what?" 

"Inkers!  That's  a  tribe  of  rich  Mexicans.  How 
ever,  I  suppose  I'd  hang  to  my  coin  the  same  way  he 
does  if  I  had  a  mayonnaise  head  like  his.  He's  an 
awful  shine  as  a  business-man." 

"So  he's  homesick,  eh?" 

"  Sure !  Offered  to  sell  me  his  stock."  Fraser  threw 
back  his  head  and  gave  vent  to  one  of  his  rare  laughs. 
"Ain't  that  a  rave?" 

"Here  he  comes  now,"  Boyd  announced,  with  a 
glance  out  the  window,  and  the  next  instant  Alton 
Clyde  entered,  a  picture  of  dejection. 

"Gee!  This  is  fierce,  isn't  it?"  the  club-man  began, 
flinging  himself  into  the  nearest  chair.  "They  tell  me 
it's  all  off,  finally.  What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Put  up  what  fish  I  can  with  a  short  crew,"  said 
Boyd. 

"We'll  lose  a  lot  of  money." 

"Probably." 

Clyde's  tone  was  querulous  as  he  continued : 

"I'm  sorry  I  ever  went  into  this  thing.  You  bet  if 
I  had  known  as  much  in  Chicago  as  I  know  now,  I 
would  have  hung  on  to  my  money  and  stayed  at  home." 

302 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"You  knew  as  much  as  we  did,"  Boyd  declared, 
curtly. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  for  you  to  talk.  You  haven't 
risked  any  coin  in  the  deal,  but  I'm  a  rotten  business 
man,  and  I'll  never  make  my  ante  back  again  if  I  lose 
it." 

"Don't  whine  about  it,"  said  Boyd,  stiffly.  "You 
can  at  least  be  game  and  lose  like  a  man." 

"Then  we  are  going  to  lose,  eh?"  queried  Clyde,  in  a 
scared  voice.  "  I  thought  maybe  you  had  a  plan. 
Look  here,"  he  began  an  instant  later,  "Cherry  pulled 
us  out  once  before,  why  don't  you  let  her  see  what  she 
can  do  with  Marsh?" 

Boyd  scanned  the  speaker's  face  sharply  before 
speaking. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  I  mean  she  can  work  him  if  she  tries,  the  same  way 
she  worked  Milliard." 

"Marsh  isn't  in  the  mood  to  listen  to  arguments.  I 
have  tried  that." 

"Who  said  anything  about  arguments?  You  know 
what  I  mean." 

"I  don't  care  to  listen  to  that  sort  of  talk." 

"  Why  not  ?  I'm  entitled  to  have  my  say  in  things." 
Clyde  was  growing  indignant.  "  I  put  in  ten  thousand 
of  my  own  money  and  twenty-five  thousand  besides, 
on  your  assurances.  That's  thirty-five  thousand  more 
than  you  put  up — " 

"Nevertheless,  it  doesn't  give  you  the  right  to  in 
sult  the  girl." 

"Insult  her!  Bah!  You're  no  fool,  Boyd.  Why 
did  Hilliard  advance  that  loan?" 

"Because  he  wanted  to,  I  dare  say." 

"What's  the  use  of  keeping  that  up?  You  know 
303 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

as  well  as  I  do  that  she  worked  him,  and  worked  him 
well.  She'd  do  it  again  if  you  asked  her.  She'd  do 
anything  for  you." 

Boyd  broke  out  roughly:  "I  tell  you,  I've  heard 
enough  of  that  talk,  Alton.  Anybody  but  an  idiot 
would  know  that  Cherry  is  far  too  good  for  what  you 
suggest.  And  when  you  insult  her,  you  insult  me." 

"Oh,  she's  good  enough,"  said  Clyde.  "They're  all 
good,  but  not  perhaps  in  the  way  you  mean — " 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"7  don't  know,  but  Eraser  does.  He's  known  her 
for  years.  Haven't  you,  Fraser?"  But  the  advent 
urer's  face  was  like  wood  as  they  turned  toward  him. 

"  I  don't  know  nothing,"  replied  "  Fingerless  "  Fraser, 
with  an  admirable  show  of  ignorance. 

"Well,  judge  for  yourself."  Clyde  turned  again  to 
Emerson.  "Who  is  she?  Where  did  she  come  from? 
What  is  she  doing  here  alone?  Answer  that.  Now, 
she's  interested  in  this  deal  just  as  much  as  any  of  us, 
and  if  you  don't  ask  her  to  take  a  hand,  I'm  going  to 
put  it  up  to  her  myself." 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort!"  Boyd  cried,  savagely. 

Clyde  rose  hastily,  and  his  voice  was  shaking  with 
excitement  as  he  stammered: 

"See  here,  Boyd,  you're  to  blame  for  this  trouble, 
and  now  you  either  get  us  out  of  it  or  buy  my 
stock." 

"You  know  that  I  can't  buy  your  stock." 

"Then  I'll  sell  wherever  I  can.  I've  been  stung, 
and  I  want  my  money.  Only  remember,  I  offered  the 
stock  to  you  first." 

"  You've  got  a  swell  chance  to  make  a  turn  in  Kal- 
vik,"  said  Fraser.  "  Why  don't  you  take  it  to  Marsh  ?" 

"I  will!"  declared  Alton. 
3°4 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  You  wouldn't  do  a  trick  like  that?"  Emerson  ques 
tioned,  quickly. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  won't  listen  to  my  advice.  You're 
playing  with  other  people's  money,  and  it  doesn't  mat 
ter  to  you  whether  you  win  or  lose.  If  this  enterprise 
fails,  I  suppose  you  can  promote  another." 

"Get  out!"  Boyd  ordered,  in  such  a  tone  that  the 
speaker  obeyed  with  ludicrous  haste. 

"  Fingerless"  Fraser  broke  the  silence  that  fell  upon 
the  young  man's  exit. 

"  He's  a  nice  little  feller!  I  never  knew  one  of  those 
narrow-chested,  five-o'clock-tea-drinkers  that  was  on 
the  level.  He's  got  eighteen  fancy  vests,  and  wears 
a  handkerchief  up  his  sleeve.  That  put  him  in  the 
end  book  with  me,  to  start  with." 

"  Did  you  know  Cherry  before  you  came  to  Kalvik?" 
Boyd  asked,  searching  his  companion's  face  with  a 
look  the  man  could  not  evade. 

"Only  casual." 

"Where?" 

"  Nome — the  year  of  the  big  rush." 

"During  the  mining  troubles,  eh?" 

"Sure." 

"What  was  she  doing?" 

"Minding  her  business.  She's  good  at  that." 
Eraser's  eyes  had  become  green  and  fishy,  as  usual. 

"What  do  you  know  about  her?" 

"Well,  I  know  that  a  lot  of  fellows  would  'go 
through '  for  her  at  the  drop  of  a  hat.  She  could  have 
most  anything  they've  got,  I  guess.  Most  any  of 
them  miners  at  Nome  would  give  his  right  eye,  or 
his  only  child,  or  any  little  thing  like  that  if  she 
asked  it." 

"What  else?" 

305 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Well,  she  was  always  considered  a  right  good- 
looking  party — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  But  what  do  you  know 
about  the  girl  herself?  Who  is  she?  What  is  her 
history?" 

"  Now,  sir,  I'm  an  awful  poor  detective,"  confessed 
"Fingerless"  Eraser.  "I've  often  noticed  that  about 
myself.  If  I  was  the  kind  that  goes  snooping  around 
into  other  people's  business,  listening  to  all  the  gossip 
I'm  told,  I'd  make  a  good  witness.  But  I  ain't.  No, 
sir!  I'm  a  rotten  witness." 

Despite  this  indirect  rebuke,  Boyd  might  have  con 
tinued  his  questioning  had  not  George  Bait's  heavy 
step  Gounded  outside.  A  moment  later  the  big  fellow 
entered. 

"What  did  you  find  at  the  traps?"  asked  Emerson, 
eagerly. 

"  Nothing."  George  spoke  shortly.  "  The  fish  struck 
in  this  morning,  but  our  trap  is  corked."  He  wrenched 
off  his  rubber  boots  and  flung  them  savagely  under  a 
bench. 

"What  luck  with  the  boats?" 

"Not  much.  Marsh's  men  are  trying  to  surround 
our  gill-netters,  and  we  ain't  got  enough  boats  to  pro 
tect  ourselves."  He  looked  up  meaningly  from  under 
his  heavy  brows,  and  inquired:  "How  much  longer 
are  we  going  to  stand  for  this?" 

"What  do  you  mean?  I've  got  men  out  hunting 
for  new  hands." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  the  giant  rumbled,  his 
red  eyes  flaming.  "You  and  I  can  get  Willis  Marsh." 

Emerson  shot  a  quick  glance  at  Eraser,  who  was 
staring  fixedly  at  Big  George. 

"He's  got  us  right  enough,  and  it's  bound  to  come 
306 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

to  a  killing  some  day,  so  the  sooner  the  better,"  the 
fisherman  ran  on.  "  We  can  get  him  to-night  if  you 
say  so.  Are  you  in  on  it?" 

Boyd  faced  the  window  slowly,  while  the  others  fol 
lowed  him  with  anxious  eyes.  Inside  the  room  a  death 
like  silence  settled.  In  the  distance  they  heard  the 
sound  of  the  canning  machinery,  a  sound  that  was 
now  a  mockery.  To  Bait  this  last  disaster  was  the 
culmination  of  a  persecution  so  pitiless  and  unflagging 
that  its  very  memory  filled  his  simple  mind  with  the 
fury  of  a  goaded  animal.  To  his  companion  it  meant, 
almost  certainly,  the  loss  of  Mildred  Wayland — the 
girl  who  stood  for  his  pride  in  himself  and  all  that  he 
held  most  desirable.  He  thought  bitterly  of  all  the 
suffering  and  hardship,  the  hunger  of  body  and  soul, 
that  he  had  endured  for  her  sake.  Again  he  saw  his 
hopes  crumbling  and  his  dreams  about  to  fade;  once 
more  he  felt  his  foothold  giving  way  beneath  him,  as 
it  had  done  so  often  in  the  past,  and  he  was  filled  with 
sullen  hate.  Something  told  him  that  he  would  never 
have  the  heart  to  try  again,  and  the  thought  left  him 
cold  with  rage. 

Ever  since  those  fishermen  had  walked  out  on  the 
evening  before,  he  had  clung  to  the  feeble  hope  that 
once  the  run  began  in  earnest,  George's  trap  would 
fill  and  save  the  situation;  but  now  that  the  salmon 
had  struck  in  and  the  trap  was  useless,  his  discourage 
ment  was  complete;  for  there  were  no  idle  men  in 
Kalvik,  and  there  was  no  way  of  getting  help.  More 
over,  Mildred  Wayland  was  soon  to  arrive — the  yacht 
was  expected  daily — and  she  would  find  him  a  failure. 
What  was  worse,  she  would  find  that  Marsh  had 
vanquished  him.  She  had  kept  her  faith  in  him,  he 
reflected,  but  a  woman's  faith  could  hardly  survive 

307 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

humiliation,  and  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  lean 
forever  upon  a  broken  reed.  She  would  turn  elsewhere 
— perhaps  to  the  very  man  who  had  contrived  his  un 
doing.  At  thought  of  this,  a  sort  of  desperation 
seemed  to  master  him;  he  began  to  mutter  aloud. 

"What  did  you  say?"  queried  Bait. 

"  I  said  that  you  are  right.  The  time  is  close  at  hand 
for  some  sort  of  a  reckoning,"  answered  Boyd,  in  a 
harsh,  strained  voice. 

"Good!" 

Emerson  was  upon  the  point  of  turning  when  his 
eyes  fell  upon  a  picture  that  made  him  start,  then  gaze 
more  intently.  Out  upon  the  placid  waters,  abreast 
of  the  plant,  the  launch  in  which  Cherry  had  departed 
was  approaching,  and  it  was  loaded  down  with  men. 
Not  only  were  they  crowded  upon  the  craft  itself,  but 
trailing  behind  it,  like  the  tail  of  a  kite,  was  a  long  line 
of  canoes,  and  these  also  were  peopled. 

"Look  yonder!"  cried  Boyd. 

"What?" 

"  Cherry  has  got — a  crew!"  His  voice  broke,  and  he 
bolted  toward  the  door  as  Big  George  leaped  to  the 
window. 

"Injuns,  by  God!"  shouted  the  giant,  and  without 
stopping  to  stamp  his  feet  into  his  boots,  he  rushed  out 
barefoot  after  Boyd  and  Fraser;  together,  the  three 
men  reached  the  dock  in  time  to  help  Cherry  up  the 
ladder. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  Boyd  asked  her,  breath 
lessly.  "Will  these  fellows  work?" 

"That's  what  they're  here  for,"  said  the  girl.  After 
her  swarmed  a  crowd  of  slant-eyed,  copper-hued  Aleuts; 
those  in  the  kyaks  astern  cast  off  and  paddled  toward 
the  beach. 

308 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I've  got  fifty  men,  the  best  on  the  river;  I  tried  to 
get  more,  but — there  aren't  any  more." 

"  Fingerless "  Fraser  slapped  himself  resoundingly 
upon  the  thigh  and  exploded  profanely;  Boyd  seized 
the  girl's  hands  in  his  and  wrung  them. 

"Cherry,  you're  a  treasure!"  The  memory  of  his 
desperate  resolution  of  a  moment  before  swept  over 
him  suddenly,  and  his  voice  trembled  with  a  great 
thankfulness. 

"Don't  thank  me!"  Cherry  exclaimed.  "It  was 
more  Constantine's  work  than  mine." 

"But  I  don't  understand.     These  are  Marsh's  men." 

"  To  be  sure,  but  I  was  good  to  them  when  they  were 
hungry  last  winter,  and  I  prevailed  upon  them  to  come. 
They  aren't  very  good  fishermen;  they're  awfully  lazy, 
and  they  won't  work  half  as  hard  as  white  men,  but  it's 
the  best  I  could  do."  She  laughed  gladly,  more  than 
repaid  by  the  look  in  her  companion's  face.  "  Now, 
get  me  some  lunch.  I'm  fairly  starved." 

Big  George,  when  he  had  fully  grasped  the  situation, 
became  the  boss  fisherman  on  the  instant;  before  the 
others  had  reached  the  cook-house  he  was  busied  in 
laying  out  his  crews  and  distributing  his  gear.  The 
impossible  had  happened;  victory  was  in  sight;  the 
fish  were  running — he  cared  to  know  no  more. 

That  night  the  floors  of  the  fish-dock  groaned  be 
neath  a  weight  of  silver-sided  salmon  piled  waist-high 
to  a  tall  man.  All  through  the  cool,  dim-lit  hours  the 
ranks  of  Chinese  butchers  hacked  and  slit  and  slashed 
with  swift,  sure,  tireless  strokes,  while  the  great  build 
ing  echoed  hollowly  to  the  clank  of  machines  and  the 
hissing  sighs  of  the  soldering-furnaces. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

IN    WHICH    MORE    PLANS    ARE    LAID 

IT  seemed  to  Boyd  that  he  had  never  felt  such  elation 
as  during  the  days  that  followed.  He  trod  upon 
air,  his  head  was  in  the  clouds.  He  joked  with  his  men, 
inspiring  them  with  his  own  good-humor  and  untiring 
energy.  He  was  never  idle  save  during  the  odd  hours 
that  he  snatched  for  sleep.  He  covered  the  plant  from 
top  to  bottom,  and  no  wheel  stopped  turning,  no  me 
chanical  device  gave  way,  without  his  instant  atten 
tion.  So  urgent  was  he  that  George  Bait  became  des 
perate;  for  the  Indians  were  not  like  white  men,  and 
proved  a  sad  trial  to  the  big  fellow,  who  was  accus 
tomed  to  drive  his  crews  with  the  cruelty  of  a  convict 
foreman.  Despite  his  utmost  endeavors,  he  could 
not  keep  the  plant  running  to  capacity,  and  in  his 
zeal  he  took  the  blame  wholly  upon  himself. 

While  the  daily  output  was  disappointing,  Emerson 
drew  consolation  from  the  prospect  that  his  pack  would 
be  large  enough  at  least  to  avert  utter  ruin,  and  he 
argued  that  once  he  had  won  through  this  first  season 
no  power  that  Marsh  could  bring  to  bear  would  serve 
to  crush  him.  He  saw  a  moderate  success  ahead,  if 
not  the  overwhelming  victory  upon  which  he  had 
counted. 

Up  at  the  Trust's  headquarters  Willis  Marsh  was  in 
a  fine  fury.  As  far  as  possible,  his  subordinates 
avoided  him.  His  superintendents,  summoned  from 

310 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

their  work,  emerged  from  the  red-painted  office  on  the 
hill  with  dampened  brows  and  frightened  glances  over 
their  shoulders.  Many  of  them  held  their  places 
through  services  that  did  not  show  upon  the  Company's 
books,  but  now  they  shook  their  heads  and  swore  that 
some  things  were  beyond  them. 

Except  for  one  step  on  Emerson  s  part,  Marsh  would 
have  rested  secure,  and  let  time  work  out  his  enemy's 
downfall;  but  Boyd's  precaution  in  contracting  to  sell 
his  output  in  advance  threatened  to  defeat  him. 
Otherwise,  Marsh  would  simply  have  cut  down  his 
rival's  catch  to  the  lowest  point,  and  then  broken  the 
market  in  the  fall.  With  the  Trust's  tremendous  re 
sources  back  of  him,  he  could  have  afforded  to  hammer 
down  the  price  of  fish  to  a  point  where  Emerson  would 
either  have  been  ruined  or  forced  to  carry  his  pack  for 
a  year,  and  in  this  course  he  would  have  been  upheld 
by  Wayne  Wayland.  But  as  matters  stood,  such 
tactics  could  only  result  in  a  serious  loss  to  the  brokers 
who  had  agreed  to  take  Boyd's  catch,  and  to  the  Trust 
itself.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to  work  the  young 
man's  undoing  here  and  now. 

Marsh  knew  that  he  had  already  wasted  too  much 
time  in  Kalvik,  for  he  was  needed  at  other  points  far 
to  the  southward ;  but  he  could  not  bear  to  leave  this 
fight  to  other  hands.  Moreover,  he  was  anxiously 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  The  Grande  Dame,  with  Mildred 
and  her  father.  One  square  of  the  calendar  over  his 
desk  was  marked  in  red,  and  the  sight  of  it  gave  him 
fresh  determination. 

On  the  third  day  after  Boyd's  deliverance,  Con- 
stantine  sought  him  out,  in  company  with  several  of 
the  native  fishermen,  translating  their  demand  to  be 
paid  for  the  fish  they  had  caught. 

at  311 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Can't  they  wait  until  the  end  of  the  week?"  Emer 
son  inquired. 

''No!  They  got  no  money — they  got  no  grub. 
They  say  little  baby  is  hongry,  and  they  like  money 
now.  So  soon  they  buy  grub,  they  work  some  more." 

"Very  well.     Here's  an  order  on  the  book-keeper." 

Boyd  tore  a  leaf  from  his  note-book  and  wrote  a 
few  words  on  it,  telling  the  men  to  present  it  at  the 
office.  As  Constantine  was  about  to  leave,  he  called 
to  him: 

"Wait!     I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

The  breed  halted. 

"How  long  have  you  known  Mr.  Marsh?" 

"Me  know  him  long  time." 

"Do  you  like  him?" 

A  flicker  ran  over  the  fellow's  coppery  face  as  he 
replied : 

"Yes.     Him  good  man." 

"You  used  to  work  for  him,  did  you  not?" 

"Yes." 

"Why  did  you  quit?" 

Constantine  hesitated  slightly  before  answering: 
"Me  go  work  for  Cherry." 

"Why?" 

"She  good  to  my  little  broder.  You  savvy  little 
chil'ren — so  big  ? " 

"  Yes.  I've  seen  him.  He's  a  fine  little  fellow.  By 
the  way,  do  you  remember  that  night  about  two  weeks 
ago  when  I  was  at  Cherry's  house  ? — the  night  you  and 
your  sister  went  out?" 

"I  'member." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

Constantine  shifted  his  walrus-soled  boots.  "What 
for  you  ask?" 

312 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Never  mind !  Where  did  you  go  when  you  left  the 
house?" 

"Me  go  Indian  village.     What  for  you  ask?" 

"  Nothing.  Only — if  you  ever  have  any  trouble  with 
Mr.  Marsh,  I  may  be  able  to  help  you.  I  like  you — 
and  I  don't  like  him." 

The  breed  grunted  unintelligibly,  and  was  about  to 
leave  when  Boyd  reached  forth  suddenly  and  plucked 
the  fellow's  sheath-knife  from  its  scabbard.  With  a 
startled  cry,  Constantine  whirled,  his  face  convulsed, 
his  nostrils  dilated  like  those  of  a  frightened  horse; 
but  Emerson  merely  fingered  the  weapon  carelessly, 
remarking : 

"That  is  a  curious  knife  you  have.  I  have  noticed 
it  several  times. ' '  He  eyed  him  shrewdly  for  a  moment, 
then  handed  the  blade  back  with  a  smile.  Constantine 
slipped  it  into  its  place,  and  strode  away  without  a 
word. 

It  was  considerably  later  in  the  day  when  Boyd  dis 
covered  the  Indians  to  whom  he  had  given  the  note 
talking  excitedly  on  the  dock.  Seeing  Constantine  in 
argument  with  them,  he  approached  to  demand  an  ex 
planation,  whereupon  the  quarter-breed  held  out  a 
silver  dollar  in  his  palm  with  the  words: 

"These  men  say  this  money  no  good." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"It  no  good.     No  can  buy  grub  at  Company  store." 

Boyd  saw  that  the  group  was  eying  him  suspiciously. 

"Nonsense!     What's  the  matter  with  it?" 

"  Storekeeper  laugh  and  say  it  come  from  you.  He 
say,  take  it  back.  He  no  sell  my  people  any  flour." 

It  was  evident  that  even  Constantine  was  vaguely 
distrustful. 

Another  native  extended  a  coin,  say  ing: 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"We  want  money  like  this." 

Boyd  took  the  piece  and  examined  it,  whereupon  a 
light  broke  upon  him.  The  coin  was  stamped  with  the 
initials  of  one  of  the  old  fishing  companies,  and  he 
instantly  recognized  a  ruse  practiced  in  the  North  dur 
ing  the  days  of  the  first  trading  concerns.  It  had  been 
the  custom  of  these  companies  to  pay  their  Indians  in 
coins  bearing  their  own  impress  and  to  refuse  all  other 
specie  at  their  posts,  thus  compelling  the  natives  to 
trade  at  company  stores.  By  carefully  building  up  this 
system  they  had  obtained  a  monopoly  of  Indian  labor, 
and  it  was  evident  that  Marsh  and  his  associates  had 
robbed  the  Aleuts  in  the  same  manner  during  the  days 
before  the  consolidation.  Boyd  saw  at  once  the  cause 
of  the  difficulty  and  undertook  to  explain  it,  but  he 
had  small  success,  for  the  Indians  had  learned  a  hard 
lesson  and  were  loath  to  put  confidence  in  the  white 
man's  promises.  Seeing  that  his  words  carried  no  con 
viction,  Emerson  gave  up  at  last,  saying: 

"If  the  Company  store  won't  take  this  money,  I'll 
sell  you  whatever  you  need  from  the  commissary.  We 
are  not  going  to  have  any  trouble  over  a  little  thing 
like  this." 

He  marched  the  natives  in  a  body  to  the  storehouse, 
where  he  saw  to  it  that  they  received  what  provisions 
they  needed  and  assisted  them  in  loading  their  canoes. 

But  his  amusement  at  the  episode  gave  way  to  un 
easiness  on  the  following  morning  when  the  Aleuts 
failed  to  report  for  work,  and  by  noon  his  anxiety 
resolved  itself  into  strong  suspicion. 

Bait  had  returned  from  the  banks  earlier  in  the  morn 
ing  with  news  of  a  struggle  between  his  white  crew 
and  Marsh's  men.  George's  boats  had  been  surround 
ed  during  the  night,  nets  had  been  cut,  and  several 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

encounters  had  occurred,  resulting  in  serious  injury 
to  his  men.  The  giant,  in  no  amiable  mood,  had  re 
turned  for  reinforcements,  stating  that  the  situation 
was  becoming  more  serious  every  hour.  Hearing  of 
the  desertion  of  the  natives,  he  burst  into  profanity, 
then  armed  himself  and  returned  to  the  banks,  while 
Boyd,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  took  a  launch  and 
sped  up  the  river  to  Cherry's  house,  in  the  hope  that  she 
could  prevail  upon  her  own  recruits  to  return. 

He  found  the  girl  ready  to  accompany  him,  and  they 
were  about  to  embark  when  Chakawana  came  running 
from  the  house  as  if  in  sudden  fright. 

"Where  you  go?"  she  asked  her  mistress. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Indian  village.     You  stay  here — 

"No,  no!  I  no  stop  here  alone.  I  go  'long  too." 
She  cast  a  glance  over  her  shoulder. 

"But,  Chakawana,  what  is  the  matter?  Are  you 
afraid?" 

"Yes."  Chakawana  nodded  her  pretty  head  vigor 
ously. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?"  Boyd  asked;  but  she 
merely  stared  at  him  with  eyes  as  black  and  round  as 
ox-heart  cherries,  then  renewed  her  entreaty.  When 
she  had  received  permission  and  had  hurried  back  to 
the  house,  her  mistress  remarked,  with  a  puzzled 
frown : 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  her.  She  and  Con- 
stantine  have  been  acting  very  strangely  of  late.  She 
used  to  be  the  happiest  sort  of  creature,  always  laugh 
ing  and  singing,  but  she  has  changed  entirely  during 
the  last  few  weeks.  Both  she  and  Constantine  are 
forever  whispering  to  each  other  and  skulking  about, 
until  I  am  getting  nervous  myself."  Then  as  the 
Indian  girl  came  flying  back  with  her  tiny  baby 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

brother  in  her  arms,  Cherry  added :  "  She's  pretty,  isn't 
she?  I  can't  bear  ugly  people  around  me." 

At  the  native  village,  in  spite  of  every  effort  she  and 
Boyd  could  make,  the  Indians  refused  to  go  back  to 
work.  Many  of  them,  so  they  learned,  had  already 
reported  to  the  other  canneries,  evidently  still  doubtful 
of  Emerson's  assurances,  and  afraid  to  run  the  risk 
of  offending  their  old  employers.  Those  who  were  left 
were  lazy  fellows  who  did  not  care  to  work  under  any 
circumstances;  these  merely  listened,  then  shrugged 
their  shoulders  and  walked  away. 

"  Since  they  can't  use  your  money  at  the  store,  they 
don't  seem  to  care  whether  it  is  good  or  not,"  Cherry 
announced,  after  a  time. 

"  I'll  give  them  enough  provisions  to  last  them  all 
winter,"  Boyd  offered,  irritated  beyond  measure  at 
such  stupidity.  "Tell  them  to  move  the  whole 
blamed  village  down  to  my  place,  women  and  all. 
I'll  take  care  of  them."  But  after  an  hour  of  fu 
tile  cajolery,  he  was  forced  to  give  up,  realizing  that 
Marsh  had  been  at  work  again,  frightening  these  sim 
ple  people  by  threats  of  vengeance  and  starvation. 

"  You  can't  blame  the  poor  things.  They  have 
learned  to  fear  the  hand  of  the  companies,  and  to 
know  that  they  are  absolutely  dependent  upon  the  can 
nery  stores  during  the  winter.  But  it's  maddening!" 
She  stamped  her  foot  angrily.  "  And  I  was  so  proud  of 
my  work.  I  thought  I  had  really  done  something  to 
help  at  last.  But  I  don't  know  what  more  we  can  do. 
I've  reached  the  end  of  my  rope." 

"So  have  I,"  he  confessed.  "Even  with  those  fifty 
Aleuts,  we  weren't  running  at  more  than  half  capacity, 
but  we  were  making  a  showing  at  least.  Now!"  He 
flung  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  despair.  "George 

316 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

is  in  trouble,  as  usual.  Marsh's  men  have  cut  our 
nets,  and  the  yacht  may  arrive  at  any  time." 

"  The  yacht !     What  yacht  ?' ' 

"  Mr.  Wayland's  yacht.  He  is  making  a  tour  of  this 
coast  with  the  other  officers  of  the  Trust  and — Mildred." 

"Is — is  she  coming  here?"  demanded  Cherry,  in  a 
strained  voice. 

"Yes." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  didn't  think  you  would  be  in 
terested." 

"  So  she  can't  wait  ?  She  is  so  eager  that  she  follows 
you  from  Chicago  clear  up  into  this  wilderness.  Then 
you  won't  need  my  assistance  any  more,  will  you?" 
Her  lids  drooped,  half  hiding  her  eyes,  and  her  face 
hardened. 

"Of  course  I  shall  need  your  help.  Her  coming 
won't  make  any  difference." 

"  It  strikes  me  that  you  have  allowed  me  to  make  a 
fool  of  myself  long  enough,"  said  Cherry,  angrily. 
"  Here  I  have  been  breaking  my  heart  over  this  enter 
prise,  while  you  have  known  all  the  time  that  she  was 
coming.  Why,  you  have  merely  used  me — and  George, 
and  all  the  rest  of  us,  for  that  matter —  She  laughed 
harshly. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  said  Boyd.  "  Miss  Way- 
land—" 

"Oh  yes,  I  do.  I  dare  say  it  will  gratify  her  to 
straighten  out  your  troubles.  A  word  from  her  lips 
and  your  worries  will  vanish  like  a  mist.  Let  us  ac 
knowledge  ourselves  beaten  and  beg  her  to  save  us." 

Boyd  shook  his  head  in  negation,  but  she  gave  him 
no  time  for  speech. 

"  It  seems  that  you  wanted  to  pose  as  a  hero  before 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

her,  and  employed  us  to  build  up  your  triumph.  Well, 
I  am  glad  we  failed.  I'm  glad  Willis  Marsh  showed 
you  how  very  helpless  you  are.  Let  her  come  to  your 
rescue  now.  I'm  through.  Do  you  understand? 
I'm  through!" 

Emerson  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment,  the  outburst 
had  been  so  unexpected,  but  he  realized  that  he  owed 
her  too  much  to  take  offence. 

"Miss  Wayland  will  take  no  hand  in  my  affairs.  I 
doubt  if  she  will  even  realize  what  this  trouble  is  all 
about,"  he  said,  a  trifle  stiffly.  "  I  suppose  I  did  want 
to  play  the  hero,  and  I  dare  say  I  did  use  you  and  the 
others,  but  you  knew  that  all  the  time." 

"Why  won't  she  help  you?"  queried  Cherry. 
"  Doesn't  she  care  enough  about  you  ?  Doesn't  she 
know  enough  to  understand  your  plight?" 

"  Yes,  but  this  is  my  fight,  and  I've  got  to  make 
good  without  her  assistance.  She  isn't  the  sort  to 
marry  a  failure,  and  she  has  left  me  to  make  my  own 
way.  Besides,  she  would  not  dare  go  contrary  to  her 
father's  wishes,  even  if  she  desired — that  is  part  of  her 
education.  Oh,  Wayne  Wayland's  opposition  isn't 
all  I  have  had  to  overcome.  I  have  had  to  show  his 
daughter  that  I  am  one  of  her  own  kind,  for  she  hates 
weakness." 

"And  you  think  that  woman  loves  you!  Why,  she 
isn't  a  woman  at  all — she  doesn't  know  what  love 
means.  When  a  woman  loves,  do  you  imagine  she 
cares  for  money  or  fame  or  success?  If  I  cared  for  a 
man,  do  you  think  I'd  stop  to  ask  my  father  if  I  might 
marry  him  or  wait  for  my  lover  to  prove  himself 
worthy  of  me  ?  Do  you  think  I'd  send  him  through  the 
hell  you  have  suffered  to  try  his  metal?"  She  laughed 
outright.  "Why,  I'd  become  what  he  was,  and  I'd 

318 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

fight  with  him.  I'd  give  him  all  I  had — money,  position, 
friends,  influence;  if  my  people  objected,  I'd  tell  them 
to  go  hang.  I'd  give  them  up  and  join  him!  I'd  use 
every  dollar,  every  wile  and  feminine  device  that  I 
possessed  in  his  service.  When  a  woman  loves,  she 
doesn't  care  what  the  world  says;  the  man  may  be  a 
weakling,  or  worse,  but  he  is  still  her  lover,  and  she  will 
go  to  him." 

The  words  had  come  tumbling  forth  until  Cherry 
was  forced  to  pause  for  breath. 

"You  don't  understand,"  said  Boyd.  "You  are 
primitive;  you  have  lived  in  the  open;  she  is  exactly 
your  opposite.  Conservatism  is  bred  in  her,  and  she 
can't  help  her  nature.  It  was  hard  even  for  me  to 
understand  at  first;  but  when  I  saw  her  life,  when  I 
saw  how  she  had  been  reared  from  childhood,  I  under 
stood  perfectly.  I  would  not  have  her  other  than  she 
is ;  it  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  in  her  own  way  she 
cares  for  me." 

Cherry  tossed  her  head  in  derision.  "For  my  part, 
I  prefer  red  blood  to  sap,  and  when  I  love  I  want  to 
know  it — I  don't  want  to  have  it  proved  to  me  like 
a  problem  in  geometry.  I  want  to  love  and  hate,  and 
do  wild,  impulsive  things  against  my  own  judg 
ment." 

"Have  you  ever  loved  in  that  way?"  he  inquired, 
abruptly. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  without  hesitation,  looking 
him  squarely  in  the  eye  with  an  expression  he  could 
not  fathom.  "Thank  Heaven,  I'm  not  the  artificial 
kind!  As  you  say,  I'm  primitive.  I  have  lived!" 
Her  crimson  lips  curled  scornfully. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  understand  her,"  he  said. 
"But  she  loves  me.  And  I — well,  she  is  my  religion. 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

A  man  must  have  some  God;  he  can't  worship  his  own 
image." 

Cherry  Malotte  turned  slowly  to  the  landing-place 
and  made  her  way  into  the  launch.  All  the  way  back 
she  kept  silence,  and  Boyd,  confused  by  her  attack 
upon  the  citadel  of  his  faith  and  strangely  sore  at  heart, 
made  no  effort  at  speech. 

"  Fingerless  "  Eraser  met  him  at  the  water's  edge. 

''Where  in  the  devil  have  you  been?"  he  cried, 
breathlessly. 

"At  the  Indian  village  after  help.     Why?" 

" Big  George  is  in  more  trouble;  he  sent  for  help  two 
hours  ago.  I  was  just  going  to  'beat  it'  down  there." 

"What's  up?" 

"There's  six  of  your  men  in  the  bunk -house  all 
beat  up;  they  don't  look  like  they'd  fish  any  more  for 
a  while.  Marsh's  men  threw  their  salmon  overboard, 
and  they  had  another  fight.  Things  are  getting  warm." 

"We  can't  allow  ourselves  to  be  driven  from  the 
banks,"  said  Boyd,  quickly.  "I'll  get  the  shoremen 
together  right  away.  Find  Alton,  and  bring  him  along; 
we'll  need  every  man  we  can  get." 

"Nothing  doing  with  that  party;  he's  quit  like  a 
house  cat,  and  gone  to  bed." 

"Very  well;  he's  no  good,  anyhow;  he's  better  out 
of  the  way." 

He  hurried  through  the  building,  now  silent  and 
half  deserted,  gathering  a  crew;  then,  leaving  only  the 
Orientals  and  the  watchman  to  guard  the  plant,  he 
loaded  his  men  into  the  boats  and  set  out. 

All  that  afternoon  and  on  through  the  long,  murky 
hours  of  the  night  the  battle  raged  on  the  lower  reaches 
of  the  Kalvik.  Boat  crews  clashed;  half-clad  men 
cursed  each  other  and  fought  with  naked  fists,  with 

320 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

oars  and  clubs;  and  when  these  failed,  they  drove  at 
one  another  with  wicked  one-tined  fish  "pues."  All 
night  the  hordes  of  salmon  swarmed  upward  toward 
the  fatal  waters  of  their  birth,  through  sagging  nets 
that  were  torn  and  slit;  beneath  keels  that  rocked  to 
the  impact  of  struggling,  heedless  bodies. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHEREIN  "THE  GRANDE  DAME"  ARRIVES,  LADEN  WITH 
DISAPPOINTMENTS 

AS  the  sun  slanted  up  between  the  southward  hills, 
f\  out  from  the  gossamer  haze  that  lay  like  filmy 
forest  smoke  above  the  ocean  came  a  snow-white  yacht. 
She  stole  inward  past  the  headlands,  as  silent  as  a 
wraith,  leaving  a  long,  black  streamer  penciled  against 
the  sky ;  so  still  was  the  dawn  that  the  breath  from  her 
funnel  lay  like  a  trail  behind  her,  slowly  fading  and 
blending  with  the  colors  of  the  morning. 

The  waters  were  gleaming  nickel  beneath  her  prow, 
and  she  clove  them  like  a  blade;  against  the  dove-gray 
sky  her  slender  rigging  was  traced  as  by  some  finely 
pointed  instrument ;  her  sides  were  as  clean  as  the  stain 
less  breasts  of  the  gulls  that  floated  near  the  shore. 

As  she  came  proudly  up  through  the  fleets  of  fishing- 
boats,  perfect  in  every  line  and  gliding  with  stately 
dignity,  the  grimy  little  crafts  drew  aside  as  if  in  awe, 
while  tired-eyed  men  stared  silently  at  her  as  if  at  a 
vision. 

To  Boyd  Emerson  she  seemed  like  an  angel  of  mercy, 
and  he  stood  forth  upon  the  deck  of  his  launch  search 
ing  her  hungrily  for  the  sight  of  a  woman's  figure. 
When  he  had  first  seen  the  ship  rounding  the  point  he 
had  uttered  a  cry,  then  fallen  silent  watching  her  as 
she  drew  near,  heedless  of  his  surroundings.  His  heart 

322 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

was  leaping,  his  breath  was  choking  him.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  must  shout  Mildred's  name  aloud  and  stretch 
his  arms  out  to  her.  Of  course,  she  would  see  him  as 
The  Grande  Dame  passed  —  she  would  be  looking  for 
him,  he  knew.  She  would  be  standing  there,  wet  with 
the  dew,  searching  with  all  her  eyes.  Doubtless  she 
had  waited  patiently  at  her  post  from  the  instant  land 
came  into  sight.  Seized  by  a  sudden  panic  lest  she 
pass  him  unnoticed,  he  ordered  his  launch  near  the 
yacht's  course,  where  he  could  command  a  view  of 
her  cabin  doors  and  the  wicker  chairs  upon  her  deck. 
His  eyes  roved  over  the  craft,  but  all  he  saw  was  a 
uniformed  officer  upon  the  bridge  and  the  bronzed 
faces  of  the  watch  staring  over  the  rail.  By  now  The 
Grande  Dame  was  so  close  that  he  might  have  flung 
a  line  to  her,  and  above  the  muffled  throbbing  of  her 
engines  he  heard  the  captain  give  some  low-spoken 
command.  Yet  nowhere  could  he  catch  a  glimpse  of 
Mildred.  He  saw  close-drawn  curtains  over  the  cabin 
windows,  indicating  that  the  passengers  were  still 
asleep.  Then,  as  he  stood  there,  heavy-hearted,  droop 
ing  with  fatigue,  his  wet  body  chilled  by  the  morning's 
breath,  The  Grande  Dame  glided  past,  and  he  found 
the  shell  beneath  his  feet  rocking  in  her  wake. 

As  he  turned  shoreward  George  Bait  hailed  him, 
and  brought  his  own  launch  alongside. 

"What  craft  is  that?"  he  inquired. 

"  She  is  the  Company's  yacht  with  the  N.  A.  P.  A. 
officers  aboard." 

The  big  fellow  stared  curiously  after  the  retreating 
ship. 

"  Some  of  our  boys  is  hurt  pretty  bad,"  he  observed. 
"  I've  told  them  to  take  in  their  nets  and  go  back  to  the 
plant." 

323 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"We  all  need  breakfast." 

"  I  don't  want  nothing.     I'm  going  over  to  the  trap.'' 

Emerson  shrugged  his  shoulders  listlessly;  he  was 
very  tired.  "What  is  the  use?  It  won't  pay  us  to 
lift  it." 

"I've  watched  that  point  of  land  for  five  years, and 
I  never  seen  fish  act  this  way  before/'  Bait  growled, 
stubbornly.  "  If  they  don't  strike  in  to-day,  we  better 
close  down.  Marsh's  men  cut  half  our  nets  and  crippled 
more  than  half  our  crew  last  night."  He  began  to 
rumble  curses.  "Say!  We  made  a  mistake  the  other 
day,  didn't  we?  We'd  ought  to  have  put  that  feller 
away.  It  ain't  too  late  yet." 

"Wait!  Wayne  Way  land  is  aboard  that  yacht;  I 
know  him.  He's  a  hard  man,  and  I've  heard  strange 
stories  about  him,  but  I  don't  believe  he  knows  all  that 
Marsh  has  been  doing.  I'm  going  to  see  him  and  tell 
him  everything." 

"S'pose  he  turns  you  down?" 

"Then  there  will  be  time  enough  to — to  consider 
what  you  suggest.  I  don't  like  to  think  about  it." 

"You  don't  have  to,"  said  Bait,  lowering  his  voice 
so  that  the  helmsmen  could  not  hear.  "I've  been 
thinking  it  over  all  night,  and  it  looks  like  I'd  ought 
to  do  it  myself.  Marsh  is  coming  to  me  anyhow,  and — 
I'm  older  than  you  be.  It  ain't  right  for  a  young 
feller  like  you  to  take  a  chance.  If  they  get  me,  you 
can  run  the  business  alone." 

Boyd  laid  his  hand  on  his  companion's  shoulder. 

"No,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  I  wouldn't  stick  at  murder 
— I  don't  know.  But  I  won't  profit  by  another  man's 
crime,  and  if  it  comes  to  that,  I'll  take  my  share  of  the 
risk  and  the  guilt.  Whatever  you  do,  I  stand  with 
you.  But  we'll  hope  for  better  things.  It's  no  easy 

324 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

thing  for  me  to  go  to  Mr.  Way  land  asking  a  favor. 
You  see,  his  daughter  is —  Well,  I  —  I  want  to  see 
her  very  badly." 

Bait  eyed  him  shrewdly. 

"I  see!  And  that  makes  it  dead  wrong  for  you  to 
take  a  hand.  If  it's  necessary  to  get  Marsh,  I'll  do  it 
alone.  With  him  out  of  the  way,  I  think  you  can  make 
a  go  of  it.  He's  like  a  rattler — somebody's  got  to 
stomp  on  him.  Now  I'm  off  for  the  trap.  Let  me 
know  what  the  old  man  says." 

Boyd  returned  to  the  cannery  with  the  old  mood 
of  self -disgust  and  bitterness  heavy  upon  him.  He 
realized  that  George's  offer  to  commit  murder  had  not 
shocked  him  as  much  as  upon  its  first  mention.  He 
knew  that  he  had  thought  of  shedding  human  blood 
with  as  little  compunction  as  if  the  intended  victim 
had  been  some  noxious  animal.  He  felt,  indeed,  that 
if  his  love  for  Mildred  made  him  a  criminal,  she  too 
would  be  soiled  by  his  dishonor,  and  for  her  sake  he 
shrank  from  the  idea  of  violence,  yet  he  lacked  the 
energy  at  that  time  to  put  it  from  him.  Well,  he  would 
go  to  her  father,  humble  himself,  and  beg  for  pro 
tection.  If  he  failed,  then  Marsh  must  look  out  for 
himself.  He  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  spare 
his  enemy. 

At  the  plant  he  found  Alton  Clyde  tremendously 
excited  at  the  arrival  of  the  yacht,  and  eager  to  visit  his 
friends.  He  sent  him  to  the  launch,  and,  after  a  hasty 
breakfast,  joined  him. 

On  their  way  out,  Boyd  felt  a  return  of  that  misgiv 
ing  which  had  mastered  him  on  his  first  meeting  with 
Mildred  in  Chicago.  For  the  second  time  he  was 
bringing  her  failure  instead  of  the  promised  victory. 
Now,  as  then,  she  would  find  him  in  the  bitterness  of 

325 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

defeat,  and  he  could  not  but  wonder  how  she  would 
bear  the  disappointment.  He  hoped  at  least  that  she 
would  understand  his  appeal  to  her  father;  that  she 
would  see  him  not  as  a  suppliant  begging  for  mercy, 
but  as  a  foeman  worthy  of  respect,  demanding  his  just 
dues.  Surely  he  had  proved  himself  capable.  Wayne 
Wayland  could  hardly  make  him  contemptible  in 
Mildred's  eyes.  Yet  a  feeling  of  disquiet  came  over 
him  as  he  drew  near  The  Grande  Dame. 

Willis  Marsh  was  ahead  of  him,  standing  with  Mr. 
Wayland  at  the  rail.  Some  one  else  was  with  them; 
Boyd's  heart  leaped  wildly  as  he  recognized  her.  He 
would  have  known  that  slim  figure  anywhere — and 
Mildred  saw  him  too,  pointing  him  out  to  her  com 
panions. 

With  knees  shaking  under  him,  he  came  stumbling 
up  the  landing-ladder,  a  tall,  gaunt  figure  of  a  man  in 
rough  clothing  and  boots  stained  with  the  sea  salt. 
He  looked  older  by  five  years  than  when  the  girl  had 
last  seen  him;  his  cheeks  were  hollowed  and  his  lips 
cracked  by  the  wind,  but  his  eyes  were  aflame  with 
the  old  light,  his  smile  was  for  her  alone. 

He  never  remembered  the  spoken  greetings  nor  the 
looks  the  others  gave  him,  for  her  soft,  cool  hands  lay 
in  his  hard,  feverish  palms,  and  she  was  smiling  up  at 
him. 

Alton  Clyde  was  at  his  heels,  and  he  felt  Mildred 
disengage  her  hand.  He  tore  his  eyes  away  from  her 
face  long  enough  to  nod  at  Marsh,  who  gave  him  a 
menacing  look,  then  turned  to  Wayne  Wayland.  The 
old  man  was  saying  something,  and  Boyd  answered 
him  unintelligibly,  after  which  he  took  Mildred's 
hands  once  more  with  such  an  air  of  unconscious  pro 
prietorship  that  Willis  Marsh  grew  pale  to  the  lips 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  turned  his  back.  Other  people,  whom  Boyd  had 
not  noticed  until  now,  came  down  the  deck — men  and 
women  with  field-glasses  and  cameras  swung  over  their 
shoulders.  He  found  that  he  was  being  introduced  to 
them  by  Mildred,  whose  voice  betrayed  no  tremor, 
and  whose  manners  were  as  collected  as  if  this  were  her 
own  drawing-room,  and  the  man  at  her  side  a  casual 
acquaintance.  The  strangers  mingled  with  the  little 
group,  levelled  their  glasses,  and  made  senseless  remarks 
after  the  manner  of  tourists  the  world  over.  Boyd 
gathered  somehow  that  they  were  officers  of  the  Trust, 
or  heavy  stockholders,  and  their  wives.  They  seemed 
to  accept  him  as  an  uninteresting  bit  of  local  color,  and 
he  regarded  them  with  equal  indifference,  for  his  eyes 
were  wholly  occupied  with  Mildred,  his  ears  deaf  to  all 
but  her  voice.  At  length  he  saw  some  of  them  going 
over  the  rail,  and  later  found  himself  alone  with  his 
sweetheart.  He  led  her  to  a  deck-chair,  and  seated 
himself  beside  her. 

"At  last!"  he  breathed.  "You  are  here,  Mildred. 
You  really  came,  after  all  ?" 

"Yes,  Boyd." 

"And  are  you  glad?" 

"Indeed  I  am.     The  trip  has  been  wonderful." 

"It  doesn't  seem  possible.  I  can't  believe  that  this 
is  really  you — that  I  am  not  dreaming,  as  usual." 

"And  you?     How  have  you  been?" 

"  I've  been  well — I  guess  I  have — I  haven't  had  time 
to  think  of  myself.  Oh,  my  Lady!"  His  voice  broke 
with  tenderness,  and  he  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  hers. 

She  withdrew  it  quickly. 

"  Not  here!     Remember  where  we  are.     You  are  not 
looking  well,  Boyd.     I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  you 
look  so  badly.     Perhaps  it  is  your  clothes." 
"  327 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"I  am  tired,"  he  confessed,  feeling  anew  the  weari 
ness  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours.  He  covertly 
stroked  a  fold  of  her  dress,  murmuring :  "  You  are 
here,  after  all.  And  you  love  me,  Mildred?  You 
haven't  changed,  have  you?" 

"Not  at  all.     Have  you?" 

His  deep  breath  and  the  light  that  flamed  into  his 
face  was  her  answer.  "  I  want  to  be  alone  with  you," 
he  cried,  huskily.  "My  arms  ache  for  you.  Come 
away  from  here;  this  is  torture.  I'm  like  a  man  dying 
of  thirst." 

No  woman  could  have  beheld  his  burning  eagerness 
without  an  answering  thrill,  and  although  Mildred  sat 
motionless,  her  lids  drooped  slightly  and  a  faint  color 
tinged  her  cheeks.  Her  idle  hands  clasped  themselves 
rigidly. 

"You  are  always  the  same,"  she  smiled.  "You 
sweep  me  away  from  myself  and  from  everything.  I 
have  never  seen  any  one  like  you.  There  are  people 
everywhere.  Father  is  somewhere  close  by." 

"I  don't  care — " 

"  I  do." 

"My  launch  is  alongside;  let  me  take  you  ashore 
and  show  you  what  I  have  done.  I  want  you  to 
see." 

"  I  can't.  I  promised  to  go  ashore  with  the  Berrys 
and  Mr.  Marsh." 

"Marsh!" 

"Now  don't  get  tragic!  We  are  all  going  to  look 
over  his  plant  and  have  lunch  there — they  are  expect 
ing  me.  Oh,  dear!"  she  cried,  plaintively,  "I  have 
seen  and  heard  nothing  but  canneries  ever  since  we 
left  Vancouver.  The  men  talk  nothing  but  fish  and 
packs  and  markets  and  dividends.  It's  all  deadly 

328 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

stupid,  and  I'm  wretchedly  tired  of  it.  Father  is  the 
worst  of  the  lot,  of  course." 

Emerson's  eyes  shifted  to  his  own  cannery.  "You 
haven't  seen  mine — ours,"  said  he. 

''Oh  yes,  I  have.  Mr.  Marsh  pointed  it  out  to 
father  and  me.  It  looks  just  like  all  the  others." 
There  was  an  instant's  pause  before  she  ran  on.  "  Do 
you  know,  there  is  only  one  interesting  feature  about 
them,  to  my  notion,  and  that  is  the  way  the  Chinamen 
smoke.  Those  funny,  crooked  pipes  and  those  little 
wads  of  tobacco  are  too  ridiculous."  The  lightness  of 
her  words  damped  his  ardor,  and  brought  back  the 
sense  of  failure.  That  formless  huddle  of  buildings  in 
the  distance  seemed  to  him  all  at  once  very  dull  and 
prosaic.  Of  course,  it  was  just  like  scores  of  others 
that  his  sweetheart  had  seen  all  the  way  north  from 
the  border-line.  He  had  never  thought  of  that  till 
now. 

"  I  was  down  with  the  fishing  fleet  at  the  mouth  of 
the  bay  this  morning  when  you  came  in.  I  thought 
I  might  see  you,"  he  said. 

"At  that  hour?  Heavens!  I  was  sound  asleep. 
It  was  hard  enough  to  get  up  when  we  were  called. 
Father  might  have  instructed  the  captain  not  to  steam 
so  fast." 

Boyd  stared  at  her  in  hurt  surprise;  but  she  was 
smiling  at  Alton  Clyde  in  the  distance,  and  did  not 
observe  his  look. 

"Don't  you  care  even  to  hear  what  I  have  done?" 
he  inquired. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mildred,  bringing  her  eyes  back 
to  him. 

Hesitatingly  he  told  her  of  his  disappointments,  the 
obstacles  he  had  met  and  overcome,  avoiding  Marsh's 

329 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

name,  and  refraining  from  placing  the  blame  where  it 
belonged.  When  he  had  concluded,  she  shook  her 
head. 

"It  is  too  bad.  But  Mr.  Marsh  told  us  all  about  it 
before  you  came.  Boyd,  I  never  thought  well  of  this 
enterprise.  Of  course,  I  didn't  say  anything  against 
it,  you  were  so  enthusiastic,  but  you  really  ought  to 
try  something  big.  I  am  sure  you  have  the  ability. 
Why,  the  successful  men  I  know  at  home  have  no  more 
intelligence  than  you,  and  they  haven't  half  your  force. 
As  for  this — well,  I  think  you  can  accomplish  more 
important  things  than  catching  fish." 

"  Important!"  he  cried.  "  Why,  the  salmon  industry 
is  one  of  the  most  important  on  the  Coast.  It  employs 
ten  thousand  men  in  Alaska  alone,  and  they  produce 
ten  million  dollars  every  year." 

"  Oh,  let's  not  go  into  statistics,"  said  Mildred,  lightly; 
"they  make  my  head  ache.  What  I  mean  is  that  a 
fisherman  is  nothing  like  —  an  attorney  or  a  broker 
or  an  architect,  for  instance;  he  is  more  like  a  miner. 
Pardon  me,  Boyd,  but  look  at  your  clothes."  She 
began  to  laugh.  "Why,  you  look  like  a  common  la 
borer!" 

He  became  conscious  for  the  first  time  that  he  cut 
a  sorry  figure.  Everything  around  him  spoke  of  wealth 
and  luxury.  Even  the  sailor  that  passed  at  the  mo 
ment  was  better  dressed  than  he.  He  felt  suddenly 
awkward  and  out  of  place. 

"  I  might  have  slicked  up  a  bit,"  he  acknowledged, 
lamely;  " but  when  you  came,  I  forgot  everything  else." 

"  I  was  dreadfully  embarrassed  when  I  introduced 
you  to  the  Berrys  and  the  rest.  I  dare  say  they  thought 
you  were  one  of  Mr.  Marsh's  foremen." 

Never  before  had  Boyd  known  the  least  constraint 
330 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

in  Mildred's  presence,  but  now  he  felt  the  rebuke  be 
hind  her  careless  manner,  and  it  wounded  him  deeply. 
He  did  not  speak,  and  after  a  moment  she  went  on, 
with  an  abrupt  change  of  subject: 

"So  that  funny  little  house  over  there  against  the 
hill  is  where  the  mysterious  woman  lives?" 

"Who?" 

"Cherry  Malotte." 

"Yes.     How  did  you  learn  that?" 

"Mr.  Marsh  pointed  it  out.  He  said  she  came  up 
on  the  same  ship  with  you." 

"That  is  true." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Why  didn't  you  write 
me  that  she  was  with  you  in  Seattle?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  didn't  think  of  it."  She  regarded 
him  coolly. 

"Has  anybody  discovered  who  or  what  she  is?" 

"Why  are  you  so  curious  about  her?" 

Mildred  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Your  discussion 
with  Willis  Marsh  that  night  at  our  house  interested 
me  very  much.  I  thought  I  would  ask  Mr.  Marsh  to 
bring  her  around  when  we  went  ashore.  It  would  be 
rather  amusing.  She  wouldn't  come  out  to  the  yacht 
and  return  my  call,  would  she?"  Boyd  smiled  at  her 
frank  concern  at  this  possibility. 

"You  don't  know  the  kind  of  girl  she  is,"  he  said. 
"She  isn't  at  all  what  you  think;  I  don't  believe  you 
would  be  able  to  meet  her  in  the  way  you  suggest." 

"Indeed!"     Mildred  arched  her  brows.     "Why?" 

"She  wouldn't  fancy  being  'brought  around,'  par 
ticularly  by  Marsh." 

From  her  look  of  surprise,  he  knew  that  he  had 
touched  on  dangerous  ground,  and  he  made  haste  to 
lead  the  conversation  back  to  its  former  channel.  He 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

wished  to  impress  Mildred  with  the  fact  that  if  he  had 
not  quite  succeeded,  he  had  by  no  means  failed;  but  she 
listened  indifferently,  with  the  air  of  humoring  an  in 
sistent  child. 

"I  wish  you  would  give  it  up  and  try  something 
else,"  she  said,  at  last.  "This  is  no  place  for  you. 
Why,  you  are  losing  all  your  old  wit  and  buoyancy; 
you  are  actually  growing  serious.  And  serious  people 
are  not  at  all  amusing." 

Just  then  Alton  Clyde  and  a  group  of  people,  among 
whom  was  Willis  Marsh,  emerged  from  the  cabin,  talk 
ing  and  laughing.  Mildred  arose,  saying: 

"Here  come  the  Berrys,  ready  to  go  ashore." 

"When  may  I  see  you  again?"  he  inquired,  quickly. 

"You  may  come  out  this  evening." 

His  eyes  blazed  as  he  answered,  "I  shall  come!" 

As  the  others  came  up,  she  said: 

"Mr.  Emerson  can't  accompany  us.  He  wishes  to 
see  father." 

"  I  just  left  him  in  the  cabin,"  said  Marsh.  He  help 
ed  the  ladies  to  the  ladder,  and  a  moment  later  Emerson 
waved  the  party  adieu,  then  turned  to  the  saloon  in 
search  of  Wayne  Wayland. 

In  Mr.  Wayland's  stiff  greeting  there  was  no  hint  that 
the  two  men  had  ever  been  friendly,  but  Emerson  was 
prepared  for  coolness,  and  seated  himself  without  wait 
ing  for  an  invitation,  glad  of  the  chance  to  rest  his 
tired  limbs.  He  could  not  refrain  from  comparing 
these  splendid  quarters  with  his  own  bare  living  shack. 
The  big  carved  desk,  the  heavy  leather  chairs,  the 
amply  fitted  sideboard,  seemed  magnificent  by  con 
trast.  His  eyes  roved  over  the  walls  with  their  book 
shelves  and  rare  paintings,  and  between  velour  hang 
ings  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  bedroom  all  in  cool, 

332 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

white  enamel.  The  unaccustomed  feel  of  the  velvet 
carpet  \vas  grateful  to  his  feet;  he  coveted  that  soft 
bed  in  yonder  with  its  smooth  linen.  For  all  these 
things  he  felt  the  savage  hunger  that  comes  of  depriva 
tion  and  hardship. 

Mr.  Way  land  had  removed  his  glasses,  and  was  wait 
ing  grimly. 

"I  have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  you,  sir,"  Emerson 
began,  "and  I  would  like  you  to  hear  me  through." 

"Go  ahead." 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some  things  about  Mr.  Marsh 
that  I  dare  say  you  will  disbelieve,  but  I  can  verify 
my  statements.  I  think  you  are  a  just  man,  and  I 
don't  believe  you  know,  or  would  approve,  the  methods 
he  has  used  against  me." 

"If  this  is  to  be  an  arraignment  of  Mr.  Marsh,  I 
suggest  that  you  wait  until  he  can  be  present.  He  has 
gone  ashore  with  the  women  folks." 

"I  prefer  to  talk  to  you,  first.  We  can  call  him  in 
later  if  you  wish." 

"Before  we  begin,  may  I  inquire  what  you  expect 
of  me?" 

"I  expect  relief." 

"You  remember  our  agreement?" 

"I  don't  want  assistance;  I  want  relief." 

"Whatever  the  distinction  in  the  words,  I  under 
stand  that  you  are  asking  a  favor?" 

"  I  don't  consider  it  so." 

"Very  well.     Proceed." 

"When  you  sent  me  out  three  years  ago  to  make  a 
fortune  for  Mildred,  it  was  understood  that  there 
should  be  fair  play  on  both  sides — " 

"Have  you  played  fair?"  quickly  interposed  the  old 
man. 

333 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  have.  When  I  came  to  Chicago,  I  had  no  idea 
that  you  were  interested  in  the  Pacific  Coast  fisheries. 
I  had  raised  the  money  before  I  discovered  that  you 
even  knew  Willis  Marsh.  Then  it  was  too  late  to  re 
treat.  When  I  reached  Seattle,  all  sorts  of  unexpected 
obstacles  came  up.  I  lost  the  ship  I  had  chartered; 
machinery  houses  refused  deliveries;  shipments  went 
astray;  my  bank  finally  refused  its  loan,  and  every 
other  bank  in  the  Northwest  followed  suit.  I  was 
harassed  in  every  possible  way.  And  it  wasn't  chance 
that  caused  it;  it  was  Willis  Marsh.  He  set  spies  upon 
me,  he  incited  a  dock  strike  that  resulted  in  a  riot  and 
the  death  of  at  least  one  man;  moreover,  he  tried  to 
have  me  killed." 

"How  do  you  know  he  did  that?" 

"  I  have  no  legal  proof,  but  I  know  it  just  the  same." 

Mr.  Wayland  smiled.  "That  is  not  a  very  definite 
charge.  You  surely  don't  hold  him  responsible  for  the 
death  of  that  striker?" 

"I  do ;  and  for  the  action  of  the  police  in  trying  to 
fix  the  crime  upon  me.  You  know,  perhaps,  how  I  got 
away  from  Seattle.  When  Marsh  arrived  at  Kalvik,  he 
first  tried  to  sink  my  boilers;  failing  in  that,  he  ruined 
my  Iron  Chinks;  then  he  'corked'  my  fish-trap,  not 
because  he  needed  more  fish,  but  purely  to  spoil  my 
catch.  The  day  the  run  started  he  bribed  my  fisher 
men  to  break  their  contracts,  leaving  me  short-handed. 
He  didn't  need  more  men,  but  did  that  simply  to  cripple 
me.  I  got  Indians  to  replace  the  white  men,  but  he 
won  them  away  by  a  miserable  trick  and  by  threats 
that  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  make  good  if  the  poor 
devils  dared  to  stand  out. 

"  His  men  won't  allow  my  fellows  to  work;  we  have 
had  our  nets  cut  and  our  fish  thrown  out.  Last  night 

334 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

we  had  a  bad  time  on  the  banks,  and  a  number  of  peo 
ple  were  hurt.  The  situation  is  growing  worse  every 
hour,  and  there  will  be  bloodshed  unless  this  persecu 
tion  stops.  All  I  want  is  a  fair  chance.  There  are  fish 
enough  for  us  all  in  the  Kalvik,  but  that  man  has  used 
the  power  of  your  organization  to  ruin  me — not  for 
business  reasons,  but  for  personal  spite.  I  have  played 
the  game  squarely,  Mr.  Wayland,  but  unless  this  ceases 
I'm  through." 

"You  are  through?" 

"  Yes.  The  run  is  nearly  a  week  old,  and  I  haven't 
begun  to  pack  my  salmon.  I  have  less  than  half  a 
boat  crew,  and  of  those  half  are  laid  up." 

The  president  of  the  Trust  stirred  for  the  first  time 
since  Boyd  had  begun  his  recital;  the  grim  lines  about 
his  mouth  set  themselves  deeper,  and,  staring  with 
cold  gray  eyes  at  the  speaker,  he  said: 

"Well,  sir!  What  you  have  told  me  confirms  my 
judgment  that  Willis  Marsh  is  the  right  man  in  the 
right  place." 

Completely  taken  back  by  this  unexpected  reply, 
Boyd  exclaimed: 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  approve  of  what 
he  has  done?" 

"Yes,  of  what  I  know  he  has  done.  Mr.  Marsh  is 
pursuing  a  definite  policy  laid  down  by  his  board  of 
directors.  You  have  shown  me  that  he  has  done  his 
work  well.  You  knew  before  you  left  the  East  that 
we  intended  to  crush  all  opposition." 

Emerson's  voice  was  sharp  as  he  cried :  "  I  under 
stand  all  that;  but  am  I  to  understand  also  that  the 
directors  of  the  N.  A.  P.  A.  instructed  him  to  kill  me?" 

"Tut,  tut!  Don't  talk  nonsense.  You  admit  that 
you  have  no  proof  of  Willis'  connection  with  the  at- 

335 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

tempt  upon  your  life.  You  put  yourself  in  the  way 
of  danger  when  you  hired  scab  labor  to  break  that 
strike.  I  think  you  got  off  very  easily." 

"  If  Marsh  was  instructed  to  crush  the  independents, 
why  has  he  centred  all  his  efforts  on  me  alone  ?  Why 
has  he  spent  this  summer  in  Kalvik  and  not  among 
the  other  stations  to  the  south?" 

"That  is  our  business.  Different  methods  are  re 
quired  in  different  localities." 

"Then  you  have  no  criticism  to  make — you  uphold 
him  ?"  Boyd's  indignation  was  getting  beyond  control. 

"  None  whatever.  I  cannot  agree  that  Marsh  is 
even  indirectly  responsible  for  the  collision  of  the 
scows,  for  the  damage  to  your  machinery,  or  for  the 
fighting  between  the  men.  On  the  contrary,  I  know 
that  he  is  doing  his  best  to  prevent  violence,  because 
it  interferes  with  the  catch.  He  hired  your  men  be 
cause  he  needed  them.  Nobody  knows  who  broke 
your  machinery.  As  for  your  fish  -  trap,  you  are 
privileged  to  build  another,  or  a  dozen  more,  wherever 
you  please.  Willis  has  already  told  me  everything 
that  you  have  said,  and  it  strikes  me  that  you  have 
simply  been  outgeneraled.  Your  complaints  do  not 
appeal  to  me.  Even  granting  your  absurd  assumption 
that  Marsh  tried  to  put  you  out  of  the  way,  it  seems  to 
me  that  you  have  more  than  evened  the  score." 

"How?" 

"He  is  still  wearing  bandages  over  that  knife-thrust 
you  gave  him." 

Emerson  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"He  knows  I  didn't  do  that;  everybody  knows  it!" 
he  cried.  "He  lied  to  you." 

"  We  won't  discuss  that,"  said  Wayne  Wayland,  curt 
ly.  "What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

336 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  want  you  to  end  this  persecution.  I  want  you  to 
call  him  off." 

"In  other  words,  you  want  me  to  save  you." 

Emerson  swallowed.  "  I  suppose  it  amounts  to  that. 
I  want  to  be  let  alone.  I  want  a  square  deal." 

"Well,  I  won't."  Wayne  Wayland's  voice  hardened 
suddenly;  his  sound,  white  teeth  snapped  together. 
"You are  getting  exactly  what  you  deserve.  You  be 
trayed  me  by  spying  upon  me  while  you  broke  bread 
in  my  house.  I  see  nothing  reprehensible  in  Mr. 
Marsh's  conduct;  but  even  if  I  did,  I  would  not  cen 
sure  him ;  any  measures  are  justifiable  against  a  traitor." 

Boyd  Emerson's  face  went  gray  beneath  its  coating 
of  tan,  and  his  voice  threatened  to  break  as  he  said : 

"I  am  no  traitor,  and  you  know  it.  I  thought  you 
a  man  of  honor,  and  I  came  to  you,  not  for  help  but  for 
justice.  But  I  see  I  was  mistaken.  I  am  beginning 
to  believe  that  Marsh  acted  under  your  instructions 
from  the  first." 

"Believe  what  you  choose." 

"You  think  you've  got  me,  but  you  haven't.  I'll 
beat  you  yet." 

"You  can't  beat  me  at  anything."  Mr.  Wayland's 
jaws  were  set  like  iron. 

"Not  this  year  perhaps,  but  next.  You  and  Marsh 
have  whipped  me  this  time;  but  the  salmon  will  come 
again,  and  I'll  run  my  plant  in  spite  of  hell!" 

Wayne  Wayland  made  as  if  to  speak,  but  Boyd  went 
on  unheeding:  "You've  taken  a  dislike  to  me,  but 
your  conduct  shows  that  you  fear  me.  You  are  afraid 
I'll  succeed,  and  I  will." 

"Brave  talk!"  said  the  older  man.  "But  you  owe 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  your  stockholders 
will  learn  of  your  mismanagement." 

337 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Your  persecution,  you  mean!"  cried  the  other.  "I 
can  explain.  They  will  wait  another  year.  I  will  raise 
more  money,  and  they  will  stand  by  me." 

"Perhaps  I  know  more  about  that  than  you  do." 

Emerson  strode  toward  the  desk  menacingly,  crying, 
in  a  quivering  voice: 

"I  warn  you  to  keep  your  hands  off  of  them.  By 
God!  don't  try  any  of  your  financial  trickery  with  me, 
or  I'll—" 

Wayne  Wayland  leaped  from  his  chair,  his  face  purple 
and  his  eyes  flashing  savagely. 

"Leave  this  yacht!"  he  thundered.  "I  won't  allow 
you  to  insult  me;  I  won't  stand  your  threats.  I've  got 
you  where  I  want  you,  and  when  the  time  comes  you'll 
know  it.  Now,  get  out!"  He  stretched  forth  a  great 
square  hand  and  closed  it  so  fiercely  that  the  fingers 
cracked.  "I'll  crush  you— like  that!" 

Boyd  turned  and  strode  from  the  cabin. 

Half -blinded  with  anger,  he  stumbled  down  the 
ladder  to  his  launch. 

"Back  to  the  plant!"  he  ordered,  then  gazed  with 
lowering  brows  and  defiant  eyes  at  The  Grande 
Dame  as  she  rested  swanlike  and  serene  at  her  moorings. 
His  anger  against  Mildred's  father  destroyed  for  the 
time  all  thought  of  his  disappointment  at  her  own  lack 
of  understanding  and  her  cool  acceptance  of  his  failure. 
He  saw  only  that  his  affairs  had  reached  a  final  climax 
where  he  must  bow  to  the  inevitable,  or — Big  George's 
parting  words  came  to  him — strike  one  last  blow  in 
reprisal.  A  kind  of  sickening  rage  possessed  him.  He 
had  tried  to  fight  fair  against  an  enemy  who  knew  no 
scruple,  partly  that  he  might  win  that  enemy's  respect. 
Now  he  was  thoroughly  beaten  and  humbled.  After 
all,  he  was  merely  an  adventurer,  without  friends  or 

338 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

resources.  His  long  struggle  had  made  him  the  type 
of  man  of  whom  desperate  things  might  be  expected. 
He  might  as  well  act  the  part.  Why  should  he  pre 
tend  to  higher  standards  than  Wayne  Wayland  or 
Marsh  ?  George's  way  was  best.  By  the  time  he  had 
reached  the  cannery,  he  had  practically  made  up  his 
mind. 

It  was  the  hour  of  his  darkest  despair — the  real  crisis 
in  his  life.  There  are  times  when  it  rests  with  fate  to 
make  a  strong  man  stronger  or  turn  him  altogether  to 
evil.  Such  a  man  will  not  accept  misfortune  tamely. 
He  is  the  reverse  of  those  who  are  good  through  weak 
ness;  it  is  his  nature  to  sin  strongly. 

But  the  unexpected  happened,  and  Boyd's  black 
mood  vanished  in  amazement  at  the  sight  which  met 
his  eyes.  Moored  to  the  fish-dock  was  a  lighter  awash 
with  a  cargo  that  made  him  stare  and  doubt  his  vision. 
He  had  seen  his  scanty  crew  of  gill-netters  return  empty- 
handed  with  the  rising  sun,  exhausted,  disheartened, 
depleted  in  numbers;  yet  there  before  him  were  thou 
sands  of  salmon.  They  were  strewn  in  a  great  mass 
upon  the  dock  and  inside  the  shed,  while  from  the 
scow  beneath  they  came  in  showers  as  the  handlers 
tossed  them  upward  from  their  pues.  Through 
the  wide  doors  he  saw  the  backs  of  the  butchers 
busily  at  work  over  their  tables,  and  heard  the 
uproar  of  his  cannery  running  full  for  the  first 
time. 

Before  the  launch  had  touched,  he  had  leaped  to  the 
ladder  and  swung  himself  upon  the  dock.  He  stumbled 
into  the  arms  of  Big  George. 

"Where — did  those — fish  come  from?"  he  cried, 
breathlessly. 

44  From  the  trap."  George  smiled  as  he  had  not 
339 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

smiled  in  many  weeks.  "They've  struck  in  like  I 
knew  they  would,  and  they're  running  now  by  the 
thousands.  I've  fished  these  waters  for  years,  but 
I  never  seen  the  likes  of  it.  They'll  tear  that  trap  to 
pieces.  They're  smothering  in  the  pot,  tons  and  tons 
of  'em,  with  millions  more  milling  below  the  leads 
because  they  can't  get  in.  It's  a  sight  you'll  not  see 
once  in  a  lifetime." 

"That  means  that  we  can  run  the  plant — that  we'll 
get  all  we  can  use?" 

"  Hell!  We've  got  fish  enough  to  run  two  canneries. 
They've  struck  their  gait  I  tell  you,  and  they'll  never 
stop  now  night  or  day  till  they're  through.  We  don't 
need  no  gill-netters ;  what  we  need  is  butchers  and 
slimers  and  handlers.  There  never  was  a  trap  site  in 
the  North  till  this  one ;  I  told  Willis  Marsh  that  years 
ago."  He  flung  out  a  long,  hairy  arm,  bared  half  to 
the  shoulder,  and  waved  it  exultantly.  "  We  built  this 
plant  to  cook  forty  thousand  salmon  a  day,  but  I'll 
bring  you  three  thousand  every  hour,  and  you've  got 
to  cook  'em.  Do  you  hear?" 

"And  they  couldn't  cork  us,  after  all!"  Emerson 
leaned  unsteadily  against  a  pile,  for  his  head  was 
whirling. 

"  No !  We'll  show  that  gang  what  a  cannery  can 
do.  Marsh's  traps  will  rot  where  they  stand."  Big 
George  shook  his  tight-clinched  fist  again.  "We've 
won,  my  boy!  We've  won!" 

"Then  don't  let  us  stand  here  talking!"  cried  Emer 
son,  sharply.  "Hurry!  Hurry!"  He  turned,  and 
sped  up  the  dock. 

He  had  come  into  his  own  at  last,  and  he  vowed  with 
tight-shut  teeth  that  no  wheel  should  stop,  no  belt 
should  slacken,  no  man  should  leave  his  duty  till  the 

340 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

run  had  passed.  At  the  entrance  to  the  throbbing, 
clanging  building  he  paused  an  instant,  and  with  a 
smile  looked  toward  the  yacht  floating  lazily  in  the 
distance.  Then,  with  knees  sagging  beneath  him  from 
weariness,  he  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE    CLASH 

I'VE  heard  the  news!"  cried  Cherry,  later  that  after 
noon,  shrieking   to   make   herself  heard  above  the 
rattle  and  jar  of  the  machinery. 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  Providence  that  watches  over 
fishermen,"  said  Boyd. 

"  I  am  happy,  for  your  sake,  and  I  want  to  apologize 
for  my  display  of  temper.  Come  away  where  I  won't 
have  to  scream  so.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  It  is  music  to  my  ears,"  he  answered,  as  he  led  her 
past  the  rows  of  Chinamen  bowed  before  their  soldering- 
torches  as  if  busied  with  some  heathen  rites.  "  But 
I'm  glad  to  sit  down  just  the  same.  I've  been  on  my 
feet  for  thirty-six  hours." 

"  You  poor  boy!     Why  don't  you  take  some  sleep?" 

"I  can't.  George  is  coming  with  another  load  of 
fish,  and  the  plant  is  so  new  I  am  afraid  to  leave  it  even 
for  an  hour." 

"It's  too  much  for  one  man,"  she  declared. 

"Oh,  I'll  sleep  to-morrow." 

"Did  you  see — her?"  questioned  Cherry. 

"Yes!" 

"  She  must  be  very  proud  of  you,"  she  said,  wistfully. 

"  I — I — don't  think  she  understands  what  I  am  try 
ing  to  do,  or  what  it  means.  Our  talk  was  not  very 
satisfactory." 

342 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"She  surely  must  have  understood  what  Marsh  is 
doing." 

"I  didn't  tell  her  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"What  good  would  it  have  done?" 

"Why" — Cherry  seemed  bewildered — "she  could 
put  a  stop  to  it;  she  could  use  her  influence  with  her 
father  against  Marsh.  I  expected  to  see  your  old  crew 
back  at  work  again.  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  her  power!" 

"  She  wouldn't  take  a  hand  under  any  circumstances 
—it  wouldn't  occur  to  her — and  naturally  I  couldn't 
ask  her."  Boyd  flushed  uncomfortably.  "Thanks 
to  George's  trap,  there  is  no  need."  He  went  on  to 
tell  Cherry  of  the  scene  with  Mr.  Wayland  and  its 
stormy  ending. 

"They  have  used  all  their  resources  to  down  you," 
she  said,  "but  luck  is  with  you,  and  you  mustn't  let 
them  succeed.  Now  is  the  time  to  show  them  what  is 
in  you.  Go  in  and  win  her  now,  against  all  of  them." 

He  was  grateful  for  her  sympathy,  yet  somehow  it 
made  him  uncomfortable. 

"What  was  it  you  wished  to  see  me  about?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh!     Have  you  seen  Chakawana?" 

"No." 

"  She  disappeared  early  this  morning  soon  after  the 
yacht  came  in;  I  can't  find  her  anywhere.  She  took 
the  baby  with  her  and — I'm  worried." 

"Doesn't  Constantine  know  where  she  is?" 

"  Why,  Constantine  is  down  here,  isn't  he?" 

"He  hasn't  been  here  since  yesterday." 

Cherry  rose  nervously.  "  There  is  something  wrong, 
Boyd.  They  have  been  acting  queerly  for  a  long 
time." 

•3  343 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  Then  you  are  alone  at  your  place,"  he  said,  thought 
fully.  "  I  think  you  had  better  come  down  here." 

"Oh  no!" 

"  I  shall  send  some  one  up  to  spend  the  night  at 
your  house.  You  shouldn't  be  left  unprotected." 
But  just  then  Constantine  came  sauntering  round  the 
corner  of  the  building. 

"  Thank  Heaven !' '  cried  Cherry.  "He  will  know  where 
the  others  are." 

But  when  his  mistress  questioned  him,  Constantine 
merely  replied:  "  I  don'  know.  I  no  see  Chakawana." 

"  They  have  been  gone  since  morning,  and  I  can't 
find  them  anywhere." 

"Umph!     I  guess  they  all  right." 

"  There  is  something  queer  about  this,"  said  Emerson. 
"Where  have  you  been  all  day?" 

"I  go  sleep.  I  tired  from  fighting  last  night.  I 
come  back  now  and  go  work.  Bime'by  Chakawana 
come  back  too,  I  guess." 

"  Well,  I  don't  need  you  to-night,  so  you'd  better  go 
back  to  Cherry's  house  and  stay  there  till  I  send  for 
you." 

Constantine  acquiesced  calmly,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  accompanied  his  mistress  up  the  beach. 

As  she  passed  Marsh's  cannery,  Cherry  saw  a  tender 
moored  to  the  dock,  and  noticed  strangers  among  the 
buildings.  They  stared  at  her  curiously,  as  if  the  sight 
of  a  white  girl  attended  by  a  copper-hued  giant  were 
part  of  the  picturesqueness  they  expected.  As  she 
drew  near  her  own  house,  she  saw  a  woman  approach 
ing,  and  while  yet  a  stone's- throw  distant  she  recognized 
her.  A  jealous  tightening  of  her  throat  and  a  flutter 
at  her  breast  told  her  that  this  was  Mildred  Way- 
land. 

344 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Cherry  would  have  passed  on  silently,  but  Miss 
Wayland  checked  her. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  said.  "Will  you  tell  me  what 
that  odd-looking  building  is  used  for?"  She  pointed 
to  the  village  above. 

"That  is  the  Greek  church." 

"How  interesting!     Are  there  many  Greeks  here?" 

"  No.  It  is  a  relic  of  the  Russian  days.  The  natives 
worship  there." 

"  I  intended  to  go  closer;  but  the  walking  is  not  very 
good,  is  it?"  She  glanced  down  at  her  dainty  French 
shoes,  then  at  Cherry's  hunting-boots.  "  Do  you  live 
here?" 

"  Yes.     In  the  log  house  yonder." 

"  Indeed !  I  tried  to  find  some  one  there,  but — you 
were  out,  of  course.  You  have  it  arranged  very 
cozily,  I  see."  Mildred's  manner  was  faintly  patroniz 
ing.  She  was  vexed  at  the  beauty  and  evident  re 
finement  of  this  woman  whom  she  had  thought  to  find 
so  different. 

"  If  you  will  go  back  I  will  show  it  to  you  from  the 
inside,  Miss  Wayland."  Cherry  enjoyed  her  start  at 
the  name  and  the  look  of  cold  hostility  that  followed. 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  me,"  said  Mildred. 
"I  did  not  think  we  had  met.  You  are — ?"  She 
raised  her  brows,  inquiringly. 

"Cherry  Malotte,  of  course." 

"  I  remember.     Mr.  Marsh  spoke  of  you." 

"  I  am  sorry." 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"  I  say  I  am  sorry  Mr.  Marsh  ever  spoke  of  me." 

Mildred  smiled  frigidly.  "Evidently  you  do  not 
like  him?" 

"Nobody  in  Alaska  likes  him.     Do  you?" 
345 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"You  see,  I  am  not  an  Alaskan." 

It  occurred  to  Cherry  that  this  girl  was  ignorant  of 
the  unexpected  change  in  Boyd's  affairs.  She  de 
cided  to  sound  her — to  find  out  for  herself  the  answer 
to  those  questions  which  Boyd  had  evaded.  He  had 
not  spoken  to  Mildred  of  Marsh.  Perhaps  if  she  knew 
the  truth,  she  would  love  him  better,  and  even  now  her 
assistance  would  not  be  valueless. 

"  Do  you  know  that  Mr.  Marsh  is  to  blame  for  all 
of  Boyd's  misfortune?"  she  said. 

"Boyd's?" 

"Yes,  Boyd's,  of  course.  Oh,  let  us  not  pretend — 
I  call  him  by  his  first  name.  I  think  you  ought  to 
know  the  truth  about  this  business,  even  if  Boyd  is  too 
chivalrous  to  tell  you." 

"Why  do  you  think  he  has  not  told  me?" 

"  I  have  just  come  from  him." 

"  If  Mr.  Emerson  blames  any  one  but  himself  for 
his  failure,  I  am  sure  he  would  have  told  me." 

"Then  you  don't  know  him." 

"  I  never  knew  him  to  ask  another  to  defend  him." 

"  He  never  asked  me  to  defend  him.  I  merely 
thought  that  if  you  knew  the  truth,  you  might  help 
him." 

"I?     How?" 

"  It  is  for  you  to  find  a  way.  He  has  met  with  op 
position  and  treachery  at  every  step;  I  think  it  is 
time  some  one  came  to  his  aid." 

"  He  has  had  your  assistance  at  all  times,  has  he 
not?" 

"  I  have  tried  to  help  wherever  I  could,  but — I 
haven't  your  power." 

Mildred  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  You  even  went 
to  Seattle  to  help  him,  did  you  not?" 

346 


CHERRY       WOULD       HAVE        PASSED       ON       SILENTLY.     BUT        MISS 
WAYLAND      CHECKED      HER 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  I  went  there  on  my  own  business." 
"  Why  do  you  take  such  an  interest  in  Mr.  Emerson's 
affairs,  may  I  ask?" 

"  It  was  I  who  induced  him  to  take  up  this  venture," 
said  Cherry,  proudly.  "  I  found  him  discouraged, 
ready  to  give  up;  I  helped  to  put  new  heart  into  him. 
I  have  something  at  stake  in  the  enterprise,  too — but 
that's  nothing.  I  hate  to  see  a  good  man  driven  to 
the  wall  by  a  scoundrel  like  Marsh." 

"  Wait!  There  is  something  to  be  said  on  both  sides. 
Mr.  Marsh  was  magnanimous  enough  to  overlook  that 
attempt  upon  his  life." 

"What  attempt?" 

"  You  must  have  heard.  He  was  wounded  in  the 
shoulder." 

"Didn't  Boyd  tell  you  the  truth  about  that?" 

"  He  told  me  everything,"  said  Mildred,  coldly. 
This  woman's  attitude  was  unbearable.  It  would  seem 
that  she  even  dared  to  criticise  her,  Mildred  Wayland, 
for  her  treatment  of  Boyd.  She  pretended  to  a  truer 
friendship,  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  him.  But 
no — it  wasn't  pretense.  It  was  too  natural,  too  un 
conscious,  for  that;  and  therein  lay  the  sting. 

"  I  shall  ask  him  about  it  again  this  evening,"  she 
continued.  "  If  there  has  really  been  persecution,  as 
you  suggest,  I  shall  tell  my  father." 

"  You  won't  see  Boyd  this  evening,"  said  Cherry. 

"Oh  yes,  I  shall." 

"He  is  very  busy  and— I  don't  think  he  can  see 
you." 

"  You  don't  understand.  I  told  him  to  come  out 
to  the  yacht!"  Mildred's  temper  rose  at  the  light  she 
saw  in  the  other  woman's  face. 

"  But  if  he  should  disappoint  you,"  Cherry  insisted, 
347 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  remember  that  the  fish  are  running,  and  you  have  no 
time  to  lose  if  you  are  going  to  help." 

Mildred  tossed  her  head.  "To  be  frank  with  you, 
I  never  liked  this  enterprise  of  Boyd's.  Now  that  I 
have  seen  the  place  and  the  people — well,  I  can't  say 
that  I  like  it  better." 

"The  country  is  a  bit  different,  but  the  people  are 
much  the  same  in  Kalvik  and  in  Chicago.  You  will  find 
unscrupulous  men  and  unselfish  women  everywhere." 

Mildred  gave  her  a  cool  glance  that  took  her  in  from 
head  to  foot. 

"And  vice  versa,  I  dare  say.  You  speak  from  a 
wider  experience  than  I."  With  a  careless  nod  she 
picked  her  way  toward  the  launch,  where  her  friends 
were  already  assembling.  She  was  angry  and  sus 
picious.  Her  pride  was  hurt  because  she  had  not  been 
able  to  feel  superior  to  the  other  woman.  Instead, 
she  had  descended  to  the  weak  resource  of  innuendo, 
while  Cherry  had  been  simple  and  direct.  She  had  ex 
pected  to  recognize  instantly  the  type  of  person  with 
whom  she  had  to  deal,  but  she  found  herself  baffled. 
Who  was  this  woman?  What  was  she  doing  here? 
Why  had  Boyd  never  told  her  of  this  extraordinary 
intimacy?  She  remembered  more  than  one  occasion 
when  he  had  defended  the  woman.  She  resolved  to  put 
an  end  to  the  affair  at  once;  Boyd  must  either  give  up 
Cherry  or — 

During  the  talk  between  the  two  young  women 
Constantine  had  kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  but 
when  Mildred  had  gone  he  came  up  to  Cherry,  with 
the  question: 

"Who  is  that?" 

"That  is  Miss  Way  land.  That  is  the  richest  girl 
in  the  world,  Constantine." 

348 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Humph!" 

"And  the  pity  of  it  is,  she  doesn't  understand  how 
very  rich  she  is.  Her  father  owns  all  these  canneries 
and  many  more  besides,  and  lots  of  railroads — but  you 
don't  know  what  a  railroad  is,  do  you?" 

"Mebbe  him  rich  as  Mr.  Marsh,  eh?" 

"A  thousand  time  richer.  Mr.  Marsh  works  for  him 
the  way  you  work  for  me." 

Being  too  much  a  gentleman  to  dispute  his  mistress' 
word,  Constantine  merely  shook  his  head  and  smiled 
broadly. 

" She  fine  lady, "  he  acknowledged.  "She  got  plenty 
nice  dress — silik." 

"Yes,  silk." 

"She  more  han'somer  than  you  be,"  he  added,  with 
reluctant  candor.  "Mebbe  that's  lie  'bout  Mr.  Marsh, 
eh  ?  White  men  all  work  for  Mr.  Marsh.  He  no  work 
for  nobody." 

"No,  it  is  true.  Mr.  Marsh  knows  how  rich  she  is, 
and  that  is  why  he  wants  to  marry  her." 

The  breed  wheeled  swiftly,  his  soft  soles  crunching 
the  gravel. 

"Mr.  Marsh  want  marry  her?"  he  repeated,  as  if 
doubting  his  ears. 

"Yes.  That  is  why  he  has  fought  Mr.  Emerson — 
they  both  want  to  marry  her.  That  is  why  Marsh 
broke  Mr.  Emerson's  machinery,  and  hired  his  men 
away  from  him,  and  cut  his  nets.  They  hate  each 
other — do  you  understand  ? " 

"Me  savvy!"  said  Constantine  shortly,  then  strode 
on  beside  the  girl.  "Me  think  all  the  time  Mr.  Emer 
son  goin'  marry  you." 

Cherry  gasped.  "No,  no!  Why,  he  is  in  love  with 
Miss  Wayland." 

349 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"S'pose  he  don'  marry  her?" 

"Then  Mr.  Marsh  will  get  her,  I  dare  say." 

After  a  moment  Constantine  announced,  with  con 
viction:  "I  guess  Mr.  Marsh  is  damn  bad  man." 

"I'm  glad  you  have  discovered  that.  He  has  even 
tried  to  kill  Mr.  Emerson ;  that  shows  the  sort  of  man 
he  is." 

"It's  good  thing — get  marry!"  said  Constantine, 
vaguely.  "The  Father  say  if  woman  don'  marry  she 
go  to  hell." 

"I'd  hate  to  think  that,"  laughed  the  girl. 

"That's  true,"  the  other  affirmed,  stoutly.  "The 
pries'  he  say  so,  and  pries'  don'  lie.  He  say  man  takes 
a  woman  and  don'  get  marry,  they  both  go  to  hell  and 
burn  forever.  Bime'by  little  baby  come,  and  he  go  to 
hell,  too," 

"Oh,  I  understand!  The  Father  wants  to  make 
sure  of  his  people,  and  he  is  quite  right.  You  natives 
haven't  observed  the  law  very  carefully." 

"He  say  Indian  woman  stop  with  white  man,  she 
never  see  Jesus'  House  no  more.  She  go  to  hell  sure, 
and  baby  go  too.  You  s'pose  that's  true?" 

"I  dare  say  it  is,  in  a  way." 

"By  God!  That's  tough  on  little  baby!"  exclaimed 
Constantine,  fervently. 

All  that  night  Boyd  stayed  at  his  post,  while  the 
cavernous  building  shuddered  and  hissed  to  the  strain 
ing  toil  of  the  machines  and  the  gasping  breath  of  the 
furnaces.  As  the  darkness  gathered,  he  had  gone  out 
upon  the  dock  to  look  regretfully  toward  the  twinkling 
lights  on  The  Grande  Dame,  then  turned  doggedly 
back  to  his  labors.  Another  load  had  just  arrived 
from  the  trap ;  already  the  plant,  untried  by  the  stress 
of  a  steady  run,  was  clogged  and  working  far  below 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

capacity.  He  would  have  sent  Mildred  word,  but  he 
had  not  a  single  man  to  spare. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  he  staggered  into 
his  quarters,  more  dead  than  alive.  In  his  heart  was  a 
great  thankfulness  that  Big  George  had  not  found  him 
wanting.  The  last  defective  machine  was  mended,  the 
last  weakness  strengthened,  and  the  plant  had  reached 
its  fullest  stride.  The  fish  might  come  now  in  any 
quantity;  the  rest  was  but  a  matter  of  coal  and  iron 
and  human  endurance.  Meanwhile  he  would  sleep. 

He  met  "Fingerless"  Fraser  emerging,  decked  royally 
in  all  the  splendor  of  new  clothes  and  spotless  linen. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Boyd  asked  him. 

"I'm  going  out  into  society." 

"Clyde  is  taking  you  to  the  yacht,  eh?" 

"No!  He's  afraid  of  my  work,  so  I'm  going  out  on 
my  own.  He  told  me  all  about  the  swell  quilts  at 
Marsh's  place,  so  I  thought  I'd  lam  up  there  and  look 
them  over.  I  may  cop  an  heiress."  He  winked  wise 
ly.  "If  I  see  one  that  looks  gentle,  I'm  liable  to  grab 
me  some  bride.  He  says  there  ain't  one  that's  got  less 
than  a  couple  of  millions  in  her  kick." 

Boyd  was  too  weary  to  do  more  than  wish  him  success, 
but  it  seemed  that  fortune  favored  Fraser,  for  before 
he  had  gone  far  he  saw  a  young  woman  seated  in  a 
patch  of  wild  flowers,  plucking  the  blooms  with  careless 
hand  while  she  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  bright 
Arctic  morning.  She  was  simply  dressed,  yet  looked 
so  prosperous  that  Fraser  instantly  decided : 

"That's  her!     I'll  spread  my  checks  with  this  one." 

"Good-morning!"  he  began. 

The  girl  gave  him  an  indifferent  glance  from  two  fear 
less  eyes,  and  nodded  slightly.  But  "Fingerless" 
Fraser  upon  occasion  could  summon  a  smile  that  was 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

peculiarly  engaging.     He  did  so  now,  seating  himself, 
hat    in    hand,    with    the   words: 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  rest  a  minute.  I'm  out  for 
my  morning  walk.  It's  a  nice  day, isn't  it?"  As  she 
did  not  answer,  he  ran  on,  glibly:  "My  name  is  De 
Benville — I'm  one  of  the  New  Orleans  branch.  That's 
my  cannery  down  yonder."  He  pointed  in  the  direc 
tion  from  which  he  had  just  come. 

"Indeed!"  said  the  young  lady. 

"Yes.     It's  mine." 

A  wrinkle  gathered  at  the  corners  of  the  stranger's 
eyes;  her  face  showed  a  flicker  of  amusement. 

"I  thought  that  was  Mr.  Emerson's  cannery,"  she 
said. 

"Oh,  the  idea!  He  only  runs  it  for  me.  I  put  up 
the  money.  You  know  him,  eh?" 

The  girl  nodded.     "Yes;   I  know  Mr.  Clyde  also." 

"  Who — Alton  ?"  he  queried,  with  reassuring  warmth. 
"  Why,  you  and  I  have  got  mutual  friends.  Alton  and 
me  is  pals."  He  shook  his  head  solemnly.  "Ain't 
he  a  scourge?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"I  say,  ain't  he  an  awful  thing?  He  ain't  anything 
like  Emerson.  There's  a  ring-tailed  swallow,  all 
right,  all  right!  I  like  him." 

"Are  you  very  intimate  with  him?" 

"Am  I?  I'm  closer  to  him  than  a  porous  plaster. 
When  Boyd  ain't  around,  I'm  him,  that's  all."  From 
her  look  Fraser  judged  that  he  was  progressing  finely. 
He  hastened  to  add :  "  I  always  like  to  help  out  young 
fellows  like  him.  I  like  to  give  'em  a  chance.  That's 
my  name,  you  know,  Chancy  De  Benville  —  always 
game  to  take  a  chance.  Is  that  your  yacht?" 

"  No.     My  father  and  I  are  merely  passengers." 
352 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"So  you  trailed  the  old  skeezicks  along  with  you? 
Well,  that's  right.  Make  the  most  of  your  father 
while  you've  got  him.  If  I'd  paid  more  attention  to 
mine  I'd  have  been  better  off  now.  But  I  was  wild." 
Fraser  winked  in  a  manner  to  inform  his  listener  that 
all  worldly  wisdom  was  his.  "  I  wanted  to  be  a  jockey, 
and  the  old  party  cut  me  off.  What  I've  got  now,  I 
made  all  by  myself,  but  if  I'd  stayed  in  Bloomington 
I  might  have  been  president  of  the  bank  by  this 
time." 

"Bloomington!  I  understood  you  to  say  New 
Orleans." 

"  My  old  man  had  a  whole  string  of  banks,"  Fraser 
averred,  hastily. 

"Tell  me— is  Mr.  Emerson  ill?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  111  enough  to  lick  a  den  of  wildcats." 

"  He  intended  coming  out  to  the  yacht  last  night,  but 
he  disappointed  us." 

"  He's  as  busy  as  an  ant-hill.  I  met  him  turning  in 
just  as  I  came  out  for  my  constitutional." 

"  Where  had  he  been  all  night  ?"  Her  voice  betrayed 
an  interest  that  Fraser  was  quick  to  detect.  He  an 
swered,  cannily: 

"You  can  search  me!  I  don't  keep  cases  on  him. 
As  long  as  he  does  his  work,  I  don't  care  where  he  goes 
at  quitting  time."  He  resolved  that  this  girl  should 
learn  nothing  from  him. 

"  There  seem  to  be  very  few  white  women  in  this 
place,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Only  one,  till  you  people  came.  Maybe  you've 
crossed  her  trail?" 

"  Hardly  1" 

"  Oh,  she's  all  right.  Take  it  on  the  word  of  a  fire 
man,  she's  an  ace," 

353 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Mr.  Emerson  told  me  about  her.  He  seems  quite 
fond  of  her/' 

"  I've  always  said  they'd  make  a  swell-looking  pair." 

"One  can  hardly  blame  her  for  trying  to  catch  him." 

"Oh,  you  can  make  book  that  she  didn't  start  no 
love-making.  She  ain't  the  kind  to  curl  up  in  a  man's 
ear  and  whisper.  She  don't  have  to.  All  she  needs 
to  do  is  look  natural;  the  men  will  fall  like  ripe  per 
simmons." 

"They  have  been  together  a  great  deal,  I  suppose." 

"Every  hour  of  the  day,  and  the  days  are  long," 
said  Fraser,  cheerfully.  "But  he  ain't  crippled;  he 
could  have  walked  away  if  he'd  wanted  to.  It's  a 
good  thing  he  didn't,  though,  because  she's  done  more 
to  win  this  bet  for  us  than  we've  done  ourselves." 

"She's  unusually  pretty,"  the  girl  remarked,  coldly. 

"  Yes,  and  she's  just  as  bright  as  she  is  good-looking — 
but  I  don't  care  for  blondes."  Fraser  gazed  admiringly 
at  the  brown  hair  before  him,  and  rolled  his  eyes 
eloquently.  "I'm  strong  for  brunettes,  I  am.  It's 
the  Creole  blood  in  me." 

She  gathered  up  her  wild  flowers  and  rose,  saying : 

"I  must  be  going." 

"I'll  go  with  you."  He  jumped  to  his  feet  with 
alacrity. 

"Thank  you.     I  prefer  to  walk  alone." 

"Couldn't  think  of  it.  I'll—"  But  he  paused  at  the 
lift  of  her  brows  and  the  extraordinarily  frigid  look  she 
gave  him.  He  stood  in  his  tracks,  watching  her  de 
scend  the  river  trail. 

"Declined  with  thanks!"  he  murmured.  "I'd  need 
ear-muffs  and  mittens  to  handle  her.  I  think  I'll 
build  me  some  bonfire  and  thaw  out.  She  must  own 
the  mint." 

354 


THli    SILVER    HORDE 

At  the  upper  cannery  Mildred  found  Alton  Clyde 
with  the  younger  Berry  girl.  She  called  him  aside, 
and  talked  earnestly  with  him  for  several  minutes. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  at  length.  "I'm  glad  to  get 
out,  of  course;  the  rest  is  up  to  you." 

Mildred's  lips  were  white  and  her  voice  hard  as  she 
cried: 

"I  am  thoroughly  sick  of  it  all.  I  have  played  the 
fool  long  enough." 

"Now  look  here,"  Clyde  objected,  weakly,  "you 
may  be  mistaken,  and — it  doesn't  look  like  quite  the 
square  thing  to  do."  But  she  silenced  him  with  an 
angry  gesture. 

"Leave  that  to  me.     I'm  through  with  him." 

"  All  right.  Let's  hunt  up  the  governor."  Together 
they  went  to  the  office  in  search  of  Wayne  Wayland. 

A  half-hour  later,  when  Clyde  rejoined  Miss  Berry, 
she  noticed  that  he  seemed  ill  at  ease,  gazing  down  the 
bay  with  a  worried,  speculative  look  in  his  colorless  eyes. 

Boyd  Emerson  roused  from  his  death-like  slumber 
late  in  the  afternoon,  still  worn  from  his  long  strain 
and  aching  in  every  muscle.  He  was  in  wretched 
plight  physically,  but  his  heart  was  aglow  with  glad 
ness.  Big  George  was  still  at  the  trap,  and  the  un 
ceasing  rumble  from  across  the  way  told  him  that  the 
fish  were  still  coming  in.  As  he  was  finishing  his 
breakfast,  a  watchman  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"There's  a  launch  at  the  dock  with  some  people 
from  above,"  he  announced.  "I  stopped  them,  ac 
cording  to  orders,  but  they  want  to  see  you." 

"Show  them  to  the  office."  Boyd  rose  and  went 
into  the  other  building,  where,  a  moment  later,  he 
was  confronted  by  Wayne  Wayland  and  Willis  Marsh. 
The  old  man  nodded  to  him  shortly.  Marsh  began; 

355 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"We  heard  about  your  good-fortune.  Mr.  Wayland 
has  come  to  look  over  your  plant." 

"It  is  not  for  sale." 

"How  many  fish  are  you  getting?" 

"That  is  my  business."  He  turned  to  Mr.  Way- 
land.  "I  hardly  expected  to  see  you  here.  Haven't 
you  insulted  me  enough?" 

"Just  a  moment  before  you  order  me  out.  I'm  a 
stockholder  in  this  company,  and  I  am  within  my  rights." 

"  You  a  stockholder  ?  How  much  stock  do  you  own  ? 
Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"I  own  thirty-five  thousand  shares  outright."  Mr. 
Wayland  tossed  a  packet  of  certificates  upon  the  table. 
"And  I  have  options  on  all  the  stock  you  placed  in 
Chicago.  I  said  you  would  hear  from  me  when  the 
time  came." 

"So  you  think  the  time  has  come  to  crush  me,  eh?" 
said  Emerson.  "Well,  you've  been  swindled.  Only 
one-third  of  the  capital  stock  has  been  sold,  and  Alton 
Clyde  holds  thirty-five  thousand  shares  of  that." 

The  old  man  smiled  grimly.  "I  have  not  been 
swindled." 

"Then  Clyde  sold  out!"  exploded  Boyd. 

"Yes.  I  paid  him  back  the  ten  thousand  dollars 
he  put  in,  and  I  took  over  the  twenty-five  thousand 
shares  you  got  Mildred  to  take." 

"Mildred!"  Emerson  started  as  if  he  had  been 
struck.  "Are  you  insane?  Mildred  doesn't  own — 
Why,  Alton  never  told  me  who  put  up  that  money!" 

"  Don't  tell  me  you  didn't  know!"  cried  Wayne  Way- 
land.  "You  knew  all  the  time.  You  worked  your 
friends  out,  and  then  sent  that  whipper-snapper  to 
my  daughter  when  you  saw  you  were  about  to  fail. 
You  managed  well;  you  knew  she  couldn't  refuse." 

356 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"How  did  you  find  out  that  she  held  the  stock?" 

"She  told  me,  of  course." 

"Don't  ask  me  to  believe  that.  If  she  hadn't  told 
you  before,  she  wouldn't  tell  you  now.  All  I  can  say 
is  that  she  acted  of  her  own  free  will.  I  never  dreamed 
she  put  up  that  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  What 
do  you  intend  to  do,  now  that  you  have  taken  over 
these  holdings?" 

"  What  do  you  think?  I  would  spend  ten  times  the 
money  to  save  my  daughter."  The  old  man  was 
quivering. 

"You  are  only  a  minority  stockholder;  the  control 
of  this  enterprise  still  rests  with  me  and  my  friends." 

"Your  friends!"  cried  Mr.  Wayland.  "That's  what 
brings  me  here — you  and  your  friends!  I'll  break  you 
and  your  friends,  if  it  takes  my  fortune." 

"I  can  understand  your  dislike  of  me,  but  my  as 
sociates  have  never  harmed  you." 

"Your  associates!  And  who  are  they?  A  lawless 
ruffian,  who  openly  threatened  Willis  Marsh's  murder, 
and  a  loose  woman  from  the  dance-halls." 

"Take  care!"  cried  Emerson,  in  a  sharp  voice. 

The  old  man  waved  his  hands  as  if  at  a  loss  for  words. 
"  Look  here!  You  can't  be  an  utter  idiot.  You  must 
know  who  she  is." 

"Do  you?     Then  tell  me." 

Wayne  Wayland  turned  his  back  in  disgust.  "  Do 
you  really  wish  to  know?"  Marsh's  smooth  voice  ques 
tioned. 

"I  do." 

"She  is  a  very  common  sort,"  said  Willis  Marsh. 
"  I  am  surprised  that  you  never  heard  of  her  while  you 
were  in  the  'upper  country.'  She  followed  the  mining 
camps  and  lived  as  such  women  do.  She  is  an  expert 

357 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

with  cards  —  she  even  dealt  faro  in  some  of  the 
camps." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"  I  looked  up  her  history  in  Seattle.  She  is  very — 
well,  notorious." 

"  People  talk  like  that  about  nearly  every  woman 
in  Alaska." 

"  I  didn't  come  here  to  argue  about  that  woman's 
character,"  broke  in  Mr.  Wayland. 

"  You  have  said  enough  now,  so  that  you  will  either 
prove  your  words  or  apologize." 

"  If  you  want  proof,  take  your  own  relation  with  her. 
It's  notorious;  even  Mildred  has  heard  of  it." 

"  I  can  explain  to  her  in  a  word." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  also  explain  that  affair  with 
Hilliard.  If  so,  you  had  better  do  it.  I  suppose  you 
didn't  know  anything  about  that,  either.  I  suppose 
you  don't  know  why  he  advanced  that  loan  after  once 
refusing  it.  They  have  a  name  for  men  like  you  who 
take  money  from  women  of  her  sort." 

Emerson  uttered  a  terrible  cry,  and  his  face  blanched 
to  a  gray  pallor. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say — I  sent — her — to  Hilliard?" 

"  Hilliard  as  good  as  told  me  so  himself.  Do  you 
wonder  that  I  am  willing  to  spend  a  fortune  to  protect 
my  girl  from  a  man  like  you?  I'm  going  to  break  you. 
I've  got  a  foothold  in  this  enterprise  of  yours,  and  I'll 
root  you  out  if  it  takes  a  million.  I'll  kick  you  back 
into  the  gutter,  where  you  belong." 

Boyd  stood  appalled  at  the  violence  of  this  outburst. 
The  man  seemed  insane.  He  could  not  find  words  to 
answer  him. 

"  You  did  not  come  down  here  to  tell  me  that,"  he 
said,  at  last. 

358 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"No.  I  came  here  with  a  message  from  Mildred; 
she  has  told  me  to  dismiss  you  once  and  for  all." 

"  I  shall  take  my  dismissal  from  no  one  but  her.  I 
can  explain  everything." 

"  I  expected  you  to  say  that.  If  you  want  her  own 
words,  read  this."  With  shaking  fingers,  he  thrust  a 
letter  before  Emerson's  eyes.  "  Read  it!" 

The  young  man  opened  the  envelope,  and  read,  in  a 
hand-writing  he  knew  only  too  well : 

"  DEAR  BOYD, — The  conviction  has  been  growing  on 
me  for  some  time  that  you  and  I  have  made  a  serious 
mistake.  It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  details — let  us 
spare  each  other  that  unpleasantness.  I  am  familiar 
with  all  that  father  will  say  to  you,  and  his  feelings 
are  mine;  hence  there  is  no  necessity  for  further  ex 
planations.  Believe  me,  this  is  much  the  simplest  way. 

"MILDRED." 

Boyd  crushed  the  note  in  his  palm  and  tossed  it  away 
carelessly. 

"You  dictate  well,"  he  said,  quietly,  "but  I  shall 
tell  her  the  truth,  and  she  will — 

"Oh  no,  you  won't.  You  won't  see  her  again.  I 
have  seen  to  that.  Mildred  is  engaged  to  Willis 
Marsh.  It's  all  settled.  I  warn  you  to  keep  away. 
Her  engagement  has  been  announced  to  all  our  friends 
on  the  yacht." 

"  I  tell  you  I  won't  take  my  dismissal  from  any 
one  but  her.  I  shall  come  aboard  The  Grande  Dame 
to-night." 

"Mr.  Marsh  and  I  may  have  something  to  say  to 
that." 

Boyd  wheeled  upon  Marsh  with  a  look  that  made 
him  recoil. 

34  359 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  If  you  try  to  cross  me,  I'll  strip  your  back  and  lash 
you  till  you  howl  like  a  dog." 

Marsh's  florid  face  went  pale;  his  tongue  became 
suddenly  too  dry  for  speech.  But  Wayne  Wayland 
was  not  to  be  cowed. 

"  I  warn  you  again  to  keep  away  from  my  daughter!" 
he  cried,  furiously. 

"  And  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  come  aboard  the  yacht 
to-night  alone." 

The  president  of  the  Trust  turned,  and,  followed  by 
his  lieutenant,  left  the  room  without  another  word 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN    WHICH    A   SCORE    IS    SETTLED 


MALOTTE,  coming  down  to  the  cannery 
on  her  daily  visit,  saw  Willis  Marsh  and  Mr. 
Wayland  leaving  it.  Wondering,  she  hurried  into  the 
main  building  in  search  of  Boyd.  The  place  was  as 
busy  as  when  she  had  left  it  on  the  afternoon  before, 
and  she  saw  that  the  men  had  been  at  work  all  night  ; 
many  of  them  were  sprawled  in  corners,  where  they  had 
sunk  from  weariness,  snatching  a  moment's  rest  before 
the  boss  kicked  them  back  to  their  posts.  The  Chinese 
hands  were  stoically  performing  their  tasks,  their  yellow 
faces  haggard  with  the  strain;  at  the  butchering-  tables 
yesterday's  crew  was  still  slitting,  slashing,  hacking  at 
the  pile  of  fish  that  never  seemed  to  grow  less.  Some 
of  them  were  giving  up,  staggering  away  to  their 
bunks,  while  others  with  more  vitality  had  stood  so 
long  in  the  slime  and  salt  drip  that  their  feet  had 
swelled,  and  it  had  become  necessary  to  cut  off  their 
shoes. 

Boyd  was  standing  in  the  door  of  the  office.  In  a 
few  words  he  told  her  of  Mr.  Wayland's  threat. 

"Do  you  think  he  can  injure  the  company?"  she  in 
quired,  anxiously. 

"  I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it.  He  can  work  very  serious 
harm,  at  least." 

"Tell  me  —  why   did   he   turn   against  you  so  sud- 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

denly  ?      What    made    Miss    Wayland    angry    with 
you?" 

"  I— I  would  rather  not." 

"Why?  I'm  your  partner,  and  I  ought  to  be  told. 
You  and  George  and  I  will  have  to  work  together  closer 
than  ever  now.  Don't  let's  begin  by  concealing  any 
thing." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  had  better  know  the  whole 
thing,"  said  Boyd,  slowly.  "  Mildred  does  not  like 
you;  her  father's  mind  has  been  poisoned  by  Marsh. 
It  seems  they  resent  our  friendship;  they  believe — all 
sorts  of  things." 

"  So  I  am  the  cause  of  your  trouble,  after  all." 

"They  blame  me  equally — more  than  you.  It 
seems  that  Marsh  made  an  inquiry  into  your — well, 
your  life  history — and  he  babbled  all  the  gossip  he 
heard  to  them.  Of  course  they  believed  it,  not  know 
ing  you  as  I  do,  and  they  misunderstood  our  friendship. 
But  I  can  explain,  and  I  shall,  to  Mildred.  Then  I 
shall  prove  Marsh  a  liar.  Perhaps  I  can  show  Mr. 
Wayland  that  he  was  in  the  wrong.  It's  our  only 
hope." 

"What  did  Marsh  say  about  me?"  asked  the  girl. 

She  was  pale  to  the  lips. 

"  He  said  a  lot  of  things  that  at  any  other  time  I 
would  have  made  him  swallow  on  the  spot.  But  it's 
only  a  pleasure  deferred.  With  your  help,  I'll  do  it  in 
their  presence.  I  don't  like  to  tell  you  this,  but  the 
truth  is  vital  to  us  all,  and  I  want  to  arm  myself." 

Cherry  was  silent. 

"  You  may  leave  it  to  me,"  he  said,  gently.  "  I  will 
see  that  Marsh  sets  you  right." 

"There  is  nothing  to  set  right,"  said  the  girl,  wearily. 
"Marsh  told  the  truth,  I  dare  say." 

362 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  The  truth !  My  God !  You  don't  know  what  you're 
saying!" 

"  Yes,  I  do."  She  returned  his  look  of  shocked 
horror  with  half-hearted  defiance.  "  You  must  have 
known  who  I  am.  Eraser  knew,  and  he  must  have 
told  you.  You  knew  I  had  followed  the  mining  camps, 
you  knew  I  had  lived  by  my  wits.  You  must  have 
known  what  people  thought  of  me.  I  cast  my  lot  in 
with  the  people  of  this  country,  and  I  had  to  match 
my  wits  with  those  of  every  man  I  met.  Sometimes 
I  won,  sometimes  I  did  not.  You  know  the  North." 

"  I  didn't  know,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  I  never  thought 
— I  wouldn't  allow  myself  to  think — " 

"Why  not?  It  is  nothing  to  you.  You  have  lived, 
and  so  have  I.  I  made  mistakes — what  girl  doesn't 
who  has  to  fight  her  way  alone?  But  my  past  is  my 
own;  it  concerns  nobody  but  me."  She  saw  the 
change  in  his  face,  and  her  reckless  spirit  rose.  "  Oh, 
I've  shocked  you!  You  think  all  women  should  be  like 
Miss  Wayland.  Have  you  ever  stopped  to  think  that 
even  you  are  not  the  same  man  you  were  when  you 
came  fresh  from  college?  You  know  the  world  now; 
you  have  tasted  its  wickedness.  Would  you  change 
your  knowledge  for  your  earlier  innocence  ?  You  know 
you  would  not,  and  you  have  no  right  to  judge  me  by  a 
separate  code.  What  difference  does  it  make  who  I  am 
or  what  I  have  done  ?  I  didn't  ask  your  record  when  I 
gave  you  the  chance  to  win  Miss  Wayland,  and  neither 
you  nor  she  have  any  right  to  challenge  mine." 

"  I  agree  with  you  in  that." 

"I  came  away  from  the  mining  camps  because  of 
wagging  tongues — because  I  was  forever  misjudged. 
Whatever  I  may  have  been,  I  have  at  least  played  fair 
with  that  girl;  it  hurts  me  now  to  be  accused  by  her. 

363 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

I  saw  your  love  for  her,  and  I  never  tried  to  rob  her. 
Oh,  don't  look  as  if  I  couldn't  have  done  differently 
if  I  had  tried.  I  could  have  injured  her  very  easily  if 
I  had  been  the  sort  she  thinks  me.  But  I  helped  you 
in  every  way  I  could.  I  made  sacrifices,  I  did  things 
she  would  never  have  done." 

She  stopped  on  the  verge  of  tears.  Boyd  felt  the 
justice  of  her  words.  He  could  not  forget  the  unself 
ish  devotion  and  loyalty  she  had  shown  throughout  his 
long  struggle.  For  the  hundredth  time  there  came  to 
him  the  memory  of  her  services  in  the  matter  of  Hil- 
liard's  loan,  and  the  thought  caused  him  unspeakable 
distress. 

"Why — did  you  do  all  this?"  he  asked. 

"  Don't  you  know?"  Cherry  gazed  at  him  with  a 
faint  smile. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  whole  truth  burst  upon 
him.  The  surprise  of  it  almost  deprived  him  of  speech, 
and  he  stammered: 

"  No,  I— I—"     Then  he  fell  silent. 

"What  little  I  did,  I  did  because  I  love  you,"  said 
the  girl,  in  a  tired  voice.  "  You  may  as  well  know,  for 
it  makes  no  difference  now." 

"I — I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  gripped  by  a  strong  emo 
tion  that  made  him  go  hot  and  cold.  "  I  have  been 
a  fool." 

"  No,  you  were  merely  wrapped  up  in  your  own 
affairs.  You  see,  I  had  been  living  my  own  life,  and 
was  fairly  contented  till  you  came;  then  everything 
changed.  For  a  long  time  I  hoped  you  might  grow  to 
love  me  as  I  loved  you,  but  I  found  it  was  no  use. 
When  I  saw  you  so  honest  and  unselfish  in  your  de 
votion  to  that  other  girl,  I  thought  it  was  my  chance 
to  do  something  unselfish  in  my  turn.  It  was  hard — 

364 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

but  I  did  my  best.  I  think  I  must  love  you  in  the  same 
way  you  love  her,  Boyd,  for  there  is  nothing  in  all  the 
world  I  would  not  do  to  make  you  happy.  That's 
all  there  is  to  the  poor  little  story,  and  it  won't  make 
any  difference  now,  except  that  you  and  I  can't  go 
on  as  we  have  done;  I  shall  never  have  the  courage 
to  come  back  after  this.  You  will  win  Miss  Way  land 
yet,  and  attain  your  heart's  desire.  I  am  only  sorry 
that  I  have  made  it  harder  for  you — that  I  cannot  help 
you  any  further.  But  I  cannot.  There  is  but  one 
thing  more  I  can  do — 

"  I  want  no  more  sacrifice!"  he  cried,  roughly.  "  I've 
been  blind.  I've  taken  too  much  from  you  already." 

The  girl  stood  for  a  moment  with  her  eyes  turned 
toward  the  river.  Then  she  said: 

"  I  must  think.     I — I  want  to  go  away.     Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,"  he  returned,  and  stood  watching  her 
as  she  hurried  away,  half  suspecting  the  tears  that 
were  trembling  amid  her  lashes. 

It  was  not  until  supper- time  that  Boyd  saw  "  Fin 
ger  less  "  Eraser,  and  questioned  him  about  his  quest 
for  an  heiress. 

"  Nothing  doing  in  the  heiress  business,"  replied  the 
adventurer.  "  I  couldn't  stand  the  exposure." 

"They  were  cold,  eh?" 

"Yep!     They  weathered  me  out." 

"Did  you  really  meet  any  of  those  people?" 

"Sure!  I  met  'em  all,  but  I  didn't  catch  their 
names.  I  '  made  '  one  before  I'd  gone  a  mile — tall, 
slim  party,  with  cracked  ice  in  her  voice." 

Boyd  looked  up  quickly.  "  Did  you  introduce  your 
self?" 

"As  Chancy  De  Benville,  that's  all.  How  is  that 
for  a  drawing-room  monaker?  She  fell  for  the  name 

365 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

all  right,  but  there  must  have  been  something  phony 
about  the  clothes.  That's  the  trouble  with  this  park 
harness;  if  I'd  wore  my  'soup  and  fish'  and  my  two- 
gallon  hat,  I'd  have  passed  for  a  gentleman  sure.  I'm 
strong  for  those  evening  togs.  I  see  another  one  later; 
a  little  Maduro  colored  skirt  with  a  fat  nose." 

"Miss  Berry." 

"  I'm  glad  to  meet  her.  I  officed  her  out  of  a  row- 
boat  and  told  her  I  was  Mr.  Yonkers  of  New  York. 
We  was  breezing  along  on  the  bit  till  Clyde  broke  it 
up.  He  called  me  Fraser,  and  it  was  cold  in  a  minute. 
Fraser  is  a  cheap  name,  anyhow;  I'm  sorry  I  took  it." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  it  isn't  your  real  name?" 
asked  his  companion,  in  genuine  bewilderment. 

"Naw!  Switzer  is  what  I  was  born  with.  Say  it 
slow  and  it  sounds  like  an  air  brake,  don't  it?  I  never 
won  a  bet  as  long  as  I  packed  it  around,  and  Fraser 
hasn't  got  it  beat  by  more  than  a  lip." 

"Well!"  Boyd  breathed  deeply.  "You  are  the 
limit." 

"  Speaking  of  clothes,  I  notice  you  are  dressed  up 
like  a  fruit  salad.  What  is  it?  The  yacht!" 

"Yes." 

"You'd  better  hurry;  she  sails  at  high  tide." 

"Sails!" 

"Alton  told  me  so,  and  said  that  he  was  going 
along." 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that,  anyhow,  but — I  don't  un 
derstand  about  the  other." 

Boyd  voiced  the  question  that  was  foremost  in  his 
mind. 

"  Did  you  know  Cherry  in  the  'upper  country '  ? " 

"Nope." 

"She  said  you  did." 

366 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"She  said  that?" 

"  Yes.     She  thought  you  had  told  me  who  she  was." 
"  Hell !     She  might  have  known  I'd  never  crack.     It's 
her  own  business,  and — I've  got  troubles  enough  with 
this  cannery  on  my  hands." 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me,"  said  Emerson. 
"  Why  ?  There's  no  use  of  rehearsing  the  dog-eared 
dope.  Nobody  can  live  the  past  over  again,  and  who 
wants  to  repeat  the  present  ?  It's  only  the  future  that's 
worth  while.  I  guess  her  future  is  just  as  good  as  any 
body's." 

"  What  she  told  me  came  as  a  shock." 
"  Fingerless  "  Fraser  grunted.  "I  don't  know  why. 
For  my  part,  I  can't  stand  for  an  ingenue.  If  ever  I 
get  married,  Cherry's  the  sort  for  me.  I'm  out  of  the 
kindergarten  myself,  and  I'd  hate  to  spend  my  life 
cutting  paper  figures  for  my  wife.  No,  sir!  If  I  ever 
seize  a  frill,  I  want  her  to  know  as  much  as  me;  then  she 
won't  tear  away  with  the  first  dark-eyed  diamond 
broker  that  stops  in  front  of  my  place  to  crank  up  his 
whizz-buggy.  You  never  heard  of  a  wise  woman 
breaking  up  her  own  home,  did  you?  It's  the  pink- 
faced  dolls  from  the  seminary  that  fall  for  Bertie  the 
Beautiful  Cloak  Model." 

Fraser  whittled  himself  a  toothpick  as  he  went  on: 
"  A  feller  in  my  line  of  business  don't  gather  much 
useful  information,  but  he  certainly  gets  Jerry  to  the 
female  question  in  all  its  dips,  angles,  and  spurs. 
Cherry  Malotte  is  the  squarest  girl  I  ever  saw,  and 
while  she  may  have  been  crowded  at  the  turn,  she'll 
finish  true.  It  takes  a  thoroughbred  to  do  that,  and 
the  guy  that  gets  her  will  win  his  Derby.  Now,  those 
fillies  on  the  yacht,  for  instance,  warm  up  fine,  but  you 
can't  tell  how  they'll  run." 

367 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"We're  not  talking  of  marriage,"  said  Boyd,  as  he 
rose.  When  he  had  gone  out,  Fraser  ruminated 
aloud : 

"Maybe  not!  I  ain't  very  bright,  and  we  may  have 
been  talking  about  the  weather.  However,  if  you're 
after  that  wild-flower  dame  with  the  cold-storage  talk 
instead  of  Cherry  Malotte,  why,  I  hope  you  get  her. 
There's  no  accounting  for  tastes.  I  certainly  did  my 
best  to  send  you  along  this  morning."  Turning  to  the 
Jap  steward,  he  remarked,  sagely:  "My  boy,  always 
remember  one  thing — if  you  can't  boost,  don't  knock." 

Wayne  Wayland  was  by  no  means  sure  that  Boyd 
would  not  make  good  his  threat  to  visit  the  yacht  that 
evening,  and  in  any  case  he  wished  to  be  prepared. 
A  scene  before  the  other  passengers  of  The  Grande 
Dame  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Besides,  if  the  young 
man  were  roughly  handled,  it  would  make  him  a 
martyr  in  Mildred's  eyes.  He  talked  over  the  matter 
with  Marsh,  who  suggested  that  the  sightseers  should 
dine  ashore  and  spend  the  evening  with  him  at  the 
plant.  With  only  Mildred  and  her  father  left  on  the 
yacht,  there  would  be  no  possibility  of  scandal,  even  if 
Emerson  were  mad  enough  to  force  an  interview. 

"  And  what  is  more,"  declared  Mr.  Wayland,  "  I 
shall  give  orders  to  clear  on  the  high  tide.  That  fellow 
is  a  menace,  and  the  sooner  Mildred  is  away  from  him 
the  better.  You  shall  go  with  us,  my  boy." 

But  when  he  went  to  Mildred,  to  explain  the  nature 
of  his  arrangements,  he  found  her  in  a  furious  temper. 

"Why  did  you  announce  my  engagement  to  Mr. 
Marsh  ? "  she  demanded,  angrily.  "  The  whole  ship  is 
talking  about  it.  By  what  right  did  you  do  that?" 

"I  did  it  for  your  own  sake,"  said  the  old  man. 
368 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"This  whelp,  Emerson,  has  made  a  fool  of  you  and  of 
me  long  enough.  There  must  be  an  end  to  it." 

"But  I  don't  love  Willis  Marsh!"  she  cried.  "You 
forget  I  am  of  age." 

"  Nonsense  I  Willis  is  a  fine  fellow,  he  loves  you,  and 
he  is  the  best  business  man  for  his  years  I  have  ever 
known.  If  it  were  not  for  this  foolish  boy-and-girl 
affair,  you  would  return  his  love.  He  suits  me,  and — 
well,  I  have  put  my  foot  down,  so  there's  an  end  of  it." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  force  me  to  marry  him  ? " 

Mr.  Wayland  recognized  the  danger-signal. 

"  Absurd !  Take  all  the  time  you  wish ;  you'll  come 
around  all  right.  That  reprobate  you  were  engaged 
to  defied  me  and  defended  that  woman." 

He  told  of  his  stormy  interview  with  Boyd,  conclud 
ing  :  "It  is  fortunate  we  found  him  out,  Mildred.  I 
have  guarded  you  all  my  life.  I  have  lavished  every 
thing  money  could  buy  upon  you.  I  have  built  up 
the  greatest  fortune  in  all  the  West  for  you.  I  have 
kept  you  pure  and  sweet  and  good — and  to  think  that 
such  a  fellow  should  dare — "  Mr.  Wayland  choked 
with  anger.  "  The  one  thing  I  cannot  stand  in  a  man 
or  a  woman  is  immorality.  I  have  lived  clean  myself, 
and  my  son  shall  be  as  clean  as  I." 

"Did  you  say  that  Boyd  threatened  to  come  aboard 
this  evening?"  questioned  the  girl. 

"Yes.     But  I  swore  that  he  should  not." 

"And  still  he  repeated  his  threat?"  Mildred's  eyes 
were  strangely  bright.  She  was  smiling  as  if  to  herself. 

"He  did,  the  braggart!     He  had  better  not  try  it." 

"Then  he'll  come,"  said  Mildred. 

It  was  twilight  when  Willis  Marsh  was  rowed  out 
to  the  yacht.  He  found  Mr.  Wayland  and  Mildred 
seated  in  deck-chairs  enjoying  the  golden  sunset  while 

369 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

the  old  man  smoked.  Marsh  explained  that  he  had 
excused  himself  from  his  guests  to  go  whither  his 
inclination  led  him,  and  drew  his  seat  close  to  Mildred, 
rejoicing  in  the  fact  that  no  one  could  gainsay  him  this 
privilege.  In  reality,  he  had  been  drawn  to  The  Grande 
Dame  largely  by  a  lurking  fear  of  Emerson.  He  was 
not  entirely  sure  of  the  girl,  and  would  not  feel  secure 
until  the  shores  of  Kalvik  had  sunk  from  sight  and  his 
rival  had  been  left  behind.  But  in  spite  of  his  un 
easiness,  it  was  the  happiest  moment  of  his  life.  If  he 
had  failed  to  ruin  his  enemy  in  the  precise  way  he  had 
planned,  he  was  fairly  satisfied  with  what  he  had  ac 
complished.  He  had  shifted  the  battle  to  stronger 
shoulders,  and  he  had  gained  the  woman  he  wanted. 
Moreover,  he  had  won  the  unfaltering  loyalty  of  Wayne 
Wayland,  the  dominant  figure  of  the  West.  Nothing 
could  keep  him  now  from  the  success  his  ambition  de 
manded.  It  added  to  his  satisfaction  to  note  the  group 
of  lusty  sailors  at  the  rail.  He  almost  wished  that 
Emerson  would  try  to  come  aboard,  that  he  might 
witness  his  discomfiture.  Meanwhile  he  did  his  best 
to  be  pleasant. 

His  complaisant  enjoyment  was  interrupted  at  last 
by  the  approach  of  the  second  officer,  who  announced 
that  a  lady  wished  to  see  Mr.  Wayland. 

"A  lady?"  asked  the  old  man,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  sir.  She  came  alongside  in  a  small  boat,  just 
now,  with  some  natives.  I  stopped  her  at  the  landing, 
but  she  says  she  must  see  you  at  once." 

"Ah!  That  woman  again."  Mr.  Wayland's  jaws 
snapped.  "Tell  her  to  begone.  I  refuse  to  see  her." 

"Very  well,  sir!"  The  mate  turned,  but  Mildred 
said,  suddenly: 

"Wait!     Why  don't  you  talk  to  her,  father?" 
370 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"That  creature?     I  have  nothing  to  say  to  her." 

"Quite  right!"  agreed  Marsh,  with  a  cautionary 
glance  at  the  speaker.  "She  is  up  to  some  trick." 

"She  may  have  something  really  important  to  say 
to  you,"  urged  the  girl. 

"No." 

Mildred  leaned  forward,  and  called  to  the  ship's  offi 
cer:  "Show  her  up.  I  will  see  her." 

"Mildred,  you  mustn't  talk  to  that  woman!"  her 
father  cried. 

"  It  is  very  unwise,"  Marsh  chimed  in,  apprehensively. 
"She  isn't  the  sort  of  person — 

Miss  Wayland  chilled  him  with  a  look  and  waved  the 
mate  away,  then  sank  back  into  her  chair. 

"I  have  talked  with  her  already.  I  assure  you  she 
is  not  dangerous." 

"  Have  your  own  way,"  Mr.  Wayland  grunted.  "  But 
it  is  bound  to  lead  to  something  unpleasant.  She  has 
probably  come  with  a  message  from — that  fellow." 

Willis  Marsh  squirmed  uncomfortably  in  his  seat. 
He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  knot  of  men  at  the  starboard 
rail;  an  expression  of  extreme  alertness  came  over  his 
bland  features.  His  feet  were  drawn  under  him,  and 
his  fingers  were  clinched  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair. 
Then,  with  a  sharp  indrawing  of  his  breath,  he  leaped 
up  and  darted  down  the  deck. 

Over  the  side  had  come  Cherry  Malotte,  accompanied 
by  an  Indian  girl  in  shawl  and  moccasins — a  slim, 
shrinking  creature  who  stood  as  if  bewildered,  twisting 
her  hands  and  staring  about  with  frightened  eyes. 
Behind  them,  head  and  shoulders  above  the  sailors, 
towered  a  giant  copper-hued  breed  with  a  child  in  his 
arms. 

They  saw  that  Marsh   was  speaking  to  the  new- 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

comers,  but  could  not  distinguish  his  words.  The 
Indian  girl  fell  back  as  if  terrified.  She  cried  out 
something  in  her  own  tongue,  shook  her  head  violently, 
and  pointed  to  her  white  companion.  Marsh's  face 
was  livid ;  he  shook  a  quivering  hand  in  Cherry  Malotte's 
face.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would  strike  her;  but  Con- 
stantine  strode  between  them,  scowling  silently  down 
into  the  smaller  man's  face,  his  own  visage  saturnine 
and  menacing.  Marsh  retreated  a  step,  chattering 
excitedly.  Then  Cherry's  voice  came  clearly  to  the 
listeners: 

"It  is  too  late  now,  Mr.  Marsh.  You  may  as  well 
face  the  music." 

Followed  by  the  stares  of  the  sailors,  she  came  up 
the  deck  toward  the  old  man  and  his  daughter,  who 
had  arisen,  the  Indian  girl  clinging  to  her  sleeve,  the 
tall  breed  striding  noiselessly  behind.  Willis  Marsh 
came  with  them,  his  white  lips  writhing,  his  face  like 
putty.  He  made  futile  detaining  grasps  at  Constan- 
tine,  and  in  the  silence  that  suddenly  descended  upon 
the  ship,  they  heard  him  whispering. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  demanded  Mr.  Way- 
land. 

"  I  heard  you  were  about  to  sail,  so  I  came  out  to 
see  you  before — " 

Marsh  broke  in,  hoarsely:  "  She's  a  bad  woman!  She 
has  come  here  for  blackmail!" 

"Blackmail!"  cried  Wayne  Wayland.  "I  thought 
as  much!" 

"That's  her  game.     She  wants  money!" 

Cherry  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  showed  her  white 
teeth  in  a  smile. 

"  Mr.  Marsh  anticipates  slightly.  You  may  judge 
if  he  is  right." 

372 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Marsh  started  to  speak,  but  Mildred  Wayland,  who 
had  been  watching  him  intently,  was  before  him. 

"Who  sent  you  here,  Miss?" 

"  No  one  sent  me.  If  Mr.  Marsh  will  stop  his  chatter, 
I  can  make  myself  understood." 

"  Don't  listen  to  her—" 

Cherry  turned  upon  him  swiftly.  "  You've  got  to 
face  it,  so  you  may  as  well  keep  still." 

He  fell  silent. 

"We  heard  that  Mr.  Marsh  was  going  away  with 
you,  and  I  came  out  to  ask  him  for  enough  money  to 
support  his  child  while  he  is  gone." 

"His  child!"  Wayne  Wayland  turned  upon  his 
daughter's  fiance  with  a  face  of  stern  surprise.  "  Willis, 
tell  her  she  is  lying!" 

"She's  lying!"  Marsh  repeated,  obediently;  but  they 
saw  the  truth  in  his  face. 

Cherry  spoke  directly  to  Miss  Wayland  now.  "  I 
have  supported  this  little  fellow  and  his  mother  for 
a  year."  She  indicated  the  red-haired  youngster  in 
Constantine's  arms.  "That  is  all  I  care  to  do.  When 
you  people  arrived,  Mr.  Marsh  induced  Chakawana  to 
take  the  baby  up-river  to  a  fishing-camp  and  stay  there 
until  you  had  gone.  But  Constantine  heard  that  he 
intended  to  marry  you,  and  hearing  also  that  he  in 
tended  leaving  to-night,  Constantine  brought  his  sister 
back  in  the  hope  that  Mr.  Marsh  would  do  what  is 
right.  You  see,  he  promised  to  marry  Chakawana 
long  before  he  met  you." 

Mildred  could  have  done  murder  at  the  expression  she 
saw  in  Cherry's  face.  This  woman  she  had  scorned 
had  humbled  her  in  earnest.  With  flashing  eyes  she 
turned  upon  her  father. 

"  Since  you  were  so  prompt  in  announcing  my  cn- 
373 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

gagement,  perhaps  you  can  deny  it  with  equal  prompt 
ness." 

"Good  God!  What  a  scandal  if  this  is  true!" 
Wayne  Wayland  wiped  his  forehead. 

"Oh,  it's  true,"  said  Cherry. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  the  child  struggled  out 
of  Constantine's  arms  and  stood  beside  his  mother, 
the  better  to  inspect  these  strangers.  His  little  face 
was  grimy,  his  clothes,  cut  in  the  native  fashion,  were 
poor  and  not  very  clean;  yet  he  was  more  white  than 
Aleut,  and  no  one  seeing  him  could  doubt  his  parent 
age.  The  seamen  had  left  their  posts,  and  were  watch 
ing  with  such  absorption  that  they  failed  to  see  a  skiff 
with  a  single  oarsman  swing  past  the  stern  of  The 
Grande  Dame  and  make  fast  to  the  landing.  Still  un 
observed,  the  man  mounted  the  companionway  swiftly. 

For  once  in  his  life  Wayne  Wayland  was  too  con 
fused  for  definite  speech.  Willis  Marsh  stood  helpless, 
his  plump  face  slack-jowled  and  beaded  with  sweat. 
He  could  not  yet  grasp  the  completeness  of  his  down 
fall,  and  waited  anxiously  for  some  further  sign  from 
Mildred.  It  came  at  last  in  a  look  that  scorched  him, 
firing  him  to  a  last  effort. 

"  Don't  believe  her!"  he  broke  out.  "  She  is  lying  to 
protect  her  own  lover!"  He  pointed  to  Chakawana. 
"  That  girl  is  the  child's  mother,  but  its  father  is  Boyd 
Emerson!" 

"  Boyd  Emerson  was  never  in  Kalvik  until  last 
December,"  said  Cherry.  "The  child  is  three  years 
old." 

"  It  seems  I  am  being  discussed,"  said  a  voice  be 
hind  them.  Emerson  clove  his  way  through  the 
sailors,  striding  directly  to  Marsh.  "  What  is  the  mean 
ing  of  this?" 

374 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Mildred  Way  land  laid  a  fluttering  hand  upon  her 
breast.  "I  knew  he  would  come,"  she  breathed. 

Constantine  broke  his  silence  for  the  first  time,  ad 
dressing  Mildred  directly. 

"This  baby  b'long  Mr.  Marsh.  He  say  he  goin' 
marry  Chakawana,  but  he  lie;  he  goin'  marry  you  be 
cause  you  are  rich  girl."  He  turned  to  Marsh.  "  What 
for  you  lie,  eh?"  He  leaned  forward  with  a  frightful 
scowl.  "  I  tell  you  long  time  ago  I  kill  you  if  you 
don'  marry  my  sister." 

"Now  I  understand!"  exclaimed  Boyd.  "It  was 
you  who  stabbed  him  that  night  in  the  cannery." 

"Yes!  Chakawana  tell  him  what  the  pries'  say 
'bout  woman  what  don'  marry.  My  sister  say  she  go 
to  hell  herself  and  don'  care  a  damn,  but  it  ain't  right 
for  little  baby  to  go  to  hell  too." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Mr.  Wayland. 

"The  Father  say  if  white  man  take  Indian  woman 
and  don'  marry  her,  she  go  to  hell  for  thousan'  year — 
mebbe  two,  three  thousan'  year.  Anyhow,  she  don' 
never  see  Jesus'  House.  That's  bad  thing!"  The 
breed  shook  his  head  seriously.  "Chakawana  she's 
good  girl,  and  she  go  to  church;  I  give  money  to  the 
pries'  too,  plenty  money  every  time,  but  he  says  that's 
no  good — she's  got  to  be  marry  or  she'll  burn  for 
always  with  little  baby.  By  God!  that's  make  her 
scare',  because  little  baby  ain't  do  nothing  to  burn 
that  way.  Mr.  Marsh  he  say  it's  all  damn  lie,  and  he 
don't  care  if  little  baby  do  go  to  hell.  You  hear  that  ? 
He  don't  care  for  little  baby." 

Constantine's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  he  strove 
laboriously  to  voice  his  religious  teachings.  He  went 
on  with  growing  agitation: 

"Chakawana  she's  mighty  scare'  of  that  bad  place, 
*s  375 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

and  she  ask  Mr.  Marsh  again  to  marry  her,  but  he  beat 
her.  That's  when  I  try  to  kill  him.  Mebbe  Mr.  Em 
erson  ain't  come  so  quick,  Mr.  Marsh  go  to  hell  himself." 

Wayne  Way  land  turned  upon  Marsh. 

"Why  don't  you  say  something?" 

"I  told  you  the  brat  isn't  mine!"  he  cried.  "If  it 
isn't  Emerson's,  it's  Cherry  Malotte's.  They  want 
money,  but  I  won't  be  bled." 

"You  marry  my  sister?"  asked  Constantine. 

"No!"  snarled  Willis  Marsh.  "You  can  all  go  to 
hell  and  take  the  child  with  you — " 

Without  a  single  warning  cry,  the  breed  lunged 
swiftly;  the  others  saw  something  gleam  in  his  hand. 
Emerson  jumped  for  him,  and  the  three  men  went  to 
the  deck  in  a  writhing  tangle,  sending  the  furniture 
spinning  before  them.  Mildred  screamed,  the  sailors 
rushed  forward,  pushing  her  aside  and  blotting  out  her 
view.  The  sudden  violence  of  the  assault  had  fright 
ened  her  nearly  out  of  her  senses.  She  fled  to  her 
father,  striving  to  hide  her  face  against  his  breast,  but 
something  drew  her  eyes  back  to  the  spot  where  the 
men  were  clinched.  She  heard  Boyd  Emerson  cry  to 
the  sailors: 

"Get  out  of  the  way!  I've  got  him!"  Then  saw  him 
locked  in  the  Indian's  arms.  They  had  gained  their 
feet  now,  and  spun  backward,  bringing  up  against  the 
yacht's  cabin  with  a  crash  of  shivering  glass.  A  knife, 
wrenched  from  the  breed's  grasp,  went  whirling  over 
the  side  into  the  sea.  Cherry  Malotte  ran  forward, 
and  at  her  voice  the  savage  ceased  his  struggles. 

Wayne  Wayland  loosed  his  daughter's  hold  and 
thrust  his  way  in  among  the  sailors,  kneeling  beside 
the  man  he  had  chosen  for  his  son-in-law.  Emerson 
joined  him,  then  rose  quickly,  crying: 

376 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Is  theie  a  doctor  among  your  party?" 

' '  Doctor  Berry !  Send  for  Berry !  He's  gone  ashore !' ' 
exclaimed  Mr.  Wayland. 

"Quick!  Somebody  fetch  Doctor  Berry!"  Boyd 
directed. 

As  the  sailors  drew  apart,  Mildred  Wayland  saw  a 
sight  that  made  her  grow  deathly  faint  and  close  her 
eyes.  Turning,  she  fled  blindly  into  the  cabin.  A  few 
moments  later  Emerson  found  her  stretched  uncon 
scious  at  the  head  of  the  main  stairs,  with  a  hysterical 
French  maid  sobbing  over  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AND    A    DREAM    COMES    TRUE 

FOR  nearly  an  hour  Boyd  Emerson  sat  alone  on  the 
deck  of  The  Grande  Dame,  a  prey  to  conflicting 
emotions,  the  while  he  waited  for  Mildred  to  appear. 
There  was  no  one  to  dispute  his  presence  now,  for  the 
tourists  who  had  followed  Doctor  Berry  from  the  shore 
in  hushed  excitement  avoided  him,  and  the  sailors  made 
no  effort  to  carry  out  their  earlier  instructions;  hence 
he  was  allowed  opportunity  to  adjust  himself  to  the 
sudden  change.  It  was  not  so  much  the  unexpected 
downfall  of  Willis  Marsh,  and  the  new  light  thus  thrown 
upon  his  own  enterprise  that  upset  him,  as  a  puzzling 
alteration  in  his  own  purposes  and  inclinations.  He 
had  come  out  to  the  yacht  defiantly,  to  make  good  his 
threat,  and  to  force  an  understanding  with  Mildred 
Wayland,  but  now  that  he  was  here  and  his  way  made 
easy  he  began  to  question  his  own  desires.  Now  that 
he  thought  about  it,  that  note,  instead  of  rilling  him  with 
dismay,  had  rather  left  him  relieved.  It  was  as  if  he 
had  been  freed  of  a  burden,  and  this  caused  him  a 
vague  uneasiness.  Was  it  because  he  was  tired  by  the 
struggle  for  this  girl,  for  whom  he  had  labored  so  faith 
fully  ?  After  three  years  of  unflagging  devotion,  was 
he  truly  relieved  to  have  her  dismiss  him?  Or  was  it 
that  here,  in  this  primal  country,  stripped  of  all  con- 

378 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

ventions,  he  saw  her  and  himself  in  a  new  light  ?  He 
did  not  know. 

The  late  twilight  was  fading  when  Mildred  came  from 
her  state-room.  She  found  Boyd  pacing  the  deck,  a 
cigar  between  his  teeth. 

"Where  are  those  people?"  she  inquired. 

"They  went  ashore.  Marsh  doesn't  care  to  press  a 
charge  against  the  Indian." 

"  I  hear  he  is  not  badly  hurt,  after  all." 

"That  is  true.     But  it  was  a  close  shave." 

Mildred  shuddered.     "It  was  horrible!" 

"I  never  dreamed  that  Constantine  would  do  such  a 
thing,  but  he  is  more  Russian  than  Aleut,  and  both  he 
and  his  sister  are  completely  under  the  spell  of  the 
priest.  They  are  intensely  religious,  and  their  idea  of 
damnation  is  very  vivid." 

"Have  you  seen  father?" 

"We  had  a  short  talk." 

"Did  you  make  up?" 

"No!  But  I  think  he  is  beginning  to  understand 
things  better — at  least,  as  far  as  Marsh  is  concerned. 
The  rest  is  only  a  matter  of  time." 

"What  a  frightful  situation!  Why  did  you  ever  let 
father  announce  my  engagement  to  that  man  ?" 

Emerson  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  I  ?  Par 
don  me — how  could  I  help  it?" 

"You  might  have  avoided  quarrelling  with  him.  I 
think  you  are  very  inconsiderate  of  me." 

Boyd  regarded  the  coal  of  his  cigar  with  a  slight 
gleam  of  amusement  in  his  eyes  as  she  ran  on: 

"Even  that  woman  took  occasion  to  humiliate  me 
in  the  worst  possible  way." 

"  It  strikes  me  that  she  did  you  a  very  great  service.  I 
have  no  doubt  it  was  quite  as  distasteful  to  her  as  to  you." 

379 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"Absurd!  It  was  her  chance  for  revenge,  and  she 
rejoiced  in  making  me  ridiculous.'* 

"Then  it  is  the  first  ignoble  thing  I  ever  knew  her 
to  do,"  said  Boyd,  slowly.  "  She  has  helped  me  in  a 
hundred  ways.  Without  her  assistance,  I  could  never 
have  won  through.  That  cannery  site  would  still  be 
grown  up  to  moss  and  trees,  and  I  would  still  be  a 
disheartened  dreamer." 

"  It's  very  nice  of  you,  of  course,  to  appreciate  what 
she  has  done.  But  she  can't  help  you  any  more. 
You  surely  don't  intend  to  keep  up  your  acquaintance 
with  her  now."  He  made  no  reply,  and,  taking  his 
silence  for  agreement,  she  went  on:  "The  trip  home 
will  be  terribly  dull  for  me,  I'm  afraid.  I  think — yes, 
I  shall  have  father  ask  you  to  go  back  with  us." 

"But  I  am  right  in  the  midst  of  the  run.  I  can't 
leave  the  business." 

"  Oh,  business!  Do  you  care  more  for  business  than 
for  me?  I  don't  think  you  realize  how  terribly  hard 
for  me  all  this  has  been — I'm  still  frightened.  I  shall 
die  of  nervousness  without  some  one  to  talk  to." 

"It's  quite  impossible!  I — don't  want  to  go  back 
now." 

"  Indeed  ?  And  no  doubt  it  was  impossible  for  you 
to  come  out  here  last  night  for  the  same  reason." 

"  It  was.     The  fish  struck  in,  and  I  could  not  leave." 

"  It  was  that  woman  who  kept  you!"  cried  Mildred. 
"It  is  because  of  her  that  you  refuse  to  leave  this 
country!" 

"Please  don't,"  he  said,  quietly,  "I  have  never 
thought  of  her  in  that  way — " 

"Then  come  away  from  this  wretched  place.  I 
detest  the  whole  country — the  fisheries,  the  people, 
everything.  This  isn't  your  proper  sphere.  Why 

380 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

not  come  away,  now,  at  once,  and  begin  something 
new,  something  worth  while  ?" 

"  Do  you  realize  the  hopes,  the  heartaches,  the  vital 
effort  I  have  put  into  this  enterprise?"  he  questioned. 

But  she  only  said: 

"  I  don't  like  it.  It  isn't  a  nice  business.  Let 
father  take  the  plant  over.  If  you  need  money,  I 
have  plenty — " 

"Wait!"  he  interrupted,  sharply.  "Sit  down,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you."  He  drew  the  wrap  closer 
about  her  shoulders  and  led  her  to  a  deck-chair.  The 
change  in  him  was  becoming  more  apparent.  He 
knew  now  that  he  had  never  felt  the  same  since  his 
first  meeting  with  Mildred  upon  the  arrival  of  The 
Grande  Dame.  Even  then  she  had  repelled  him  by  her 
lack  of  sympathy.  She  had  shown  no  understanding 
of  his  efforts,  and  now  she  revealed  as  complete  a 
failure  to  grasp  his  code  of  honor.  It  never  occurred 
to  her  that  any  loyalty  of  man  to  man  could  offset 
her  simple  will.  She  did  not  see  that  his  desertion  of 
George  would  be  nothing  short  of  treachery. 

It  seemed  to  him  all  at  once  that  they  had  little  in 
common.  She  was  wrapped  comp1etely  in  the  web 
of  her  own  desires;  she  would  make  her  prejudices  a 
law  for  him.  Above  all,  she  could  not  respond  to  the 
exultation  of  his  success.  She  had  no  conception  of 
the  pride  of  accomplishment  that  is  the  wine  of  every 
true  man's  life.  He  had  waged  a  bitter  fight  that  had 
sapped  his  very  soul,  he  had  made  and  won  the  struggle 
that  a  man  makes  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  now,  just 
when  he  had  proved  himself  strong  and  fair  in  the 
sight  of  his  fellows,  she  asked  him  to  forego  it  all. 
Engrossed  in  her  own  egoism,  she  required  of  him  a 
greater  sacrifice  than  any  he  had  made.  Now  that  he 

381 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

had  shown  his  strength,  she  wanted  to  load  him  down 
with  golden  fetters — to  make  him  a  dependent.  Was  it 
because  she  feared  another  girl  ?  She  had  tried  to  help 
him,  he  knew — in  her  way — and  the  thought  of  it 
touched  him.  That  was  like  the  Mildred  he  had  al 
ways  known — to  act  fearlessly,  heedless  of  what  her 
father  might  do  or  say.  Somehow  he  had  never  felt 
more  convinced  of  the  sincerity  of  her  love,  but  he 
found  himself  thinking  of  it  as  of  something  of  the 
past.  After  all,  what  she  had  done  had  been  little, 
considering  her  power.  She  had  given  carelessly,  out 
of  her  abundance,  while  Cherry —  He  saw  it  all  now, 
and  a  sudden  sense  of  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the 
girl  who  had  really  shared  his  struggles  swept  over 
him  in  a  warm  tide.  It  was  most  unlike  his  distant 
worship  of  Mildred.  She  had  been  his  dream,  but  the 
other  was  bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of  his  flesh. 

For  a  long  time  the  two  sat  talking  while  these 
thoughts  took  gradual  form  in  the  young  man's  mind, 
and  although  the  deck  was  deserted,  Miss  Way  land  had 
no  need  now  to  curb  her  once  headstrong  wooer. 

He  could  not  put  into  words  the  change  that  was 
working  in  him;  but  she  saw  it,  and,  grasping  its  mean 
ing  at  last,  she  began  to  battle  like  a  mother  for  her 
child.  His  awakening  had  been  slow,  and  hers  was 
even  slowei ;  but  once  she  found  her  power  over  him 
waning,  her  sense  of  loss  grew  and  grew  as  he  failed  to 
answer  to  her  half-spoken  appeal. 

Womanlike,  she  capitulated  at  last.  What  matter 
if  he  stayed  here  where  his  hopes  were  centred  ?  This 
life  in  the  North  had  claimed  him,  and  she  would  wait 
until  he  came  for  her.  But  still  he  did  not  respond, 
and  it  was  not  long  until  she  had  persuaded  herself  that 
his  battle  with  the  wilderness  had  put  red  blood  into. 

382 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

his  veins,  and  his  conduct  had  been  no  worse  than  that 
of  other  men.  Finally  she  tried  to  voice  these  thoughts, 
but  she  only  led  him  to  a  stiff  denial  of  the  charges  she 
wished  to  forgive.  As  she  saw  him  slipping  further 
away  from  her,  she  summoned  all  her  arts  to  rekindle 
the  flame  which  had  burned  so  steadily;  and  when 
these  failed,  she  surrendered  every  prejudice.  It  was 
his  love  she  wanted.  All  else  was  secondary.  At  last 
she  knew  herself.  She  could  have  cried  at  the  sud 
den  realization  that  he  had  not  kissed  her  since  their 
parting  in  Chicago;  and  when  she  saw  he  had  no  will 
to  do  so,  the  memory  of  his  last  embrace  arose  to 
torture  her.  She  was  almost  glad  when  a  launch 
bringing  her  father  came  from  the  shore,  and  the  old 
man  joined  them. 

The  two  men  bore  themselves  with  unbending  for 
mality,  unable  as  yet  to  forget  their  mutual  wrongs. 
The  interruption  gave  Boyd  the  opportunity  he  had 
not  been  brave  enough  to  make,  and  he  bade  them 
both  good-bye;  for  the  tide  was  at  its  flood,  and  the 
hour  of  their  departure  was  at  hand. 

There  was  a  meaningless  exchange  of  words,  and  a 
handshake  in  the  glare  from  the  cabin  lights  that  show 
ed  Mildred's  pallid  lips  and  frightened  eyes.  Then 
Emerson  went  over  the  side,  and  the  darkness  swallow 
ed  him  up. 

The  girl  clutched  at  her  father's  arm,  standing  as  if 
frozen  while  the  creak  of  rowlocks  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  and  died  away.  Then  she  turned. 

"You  see — he  came!"  she  said. 

The  old  man  saw  the  agony  that  blanched  her  cheeks, 
and  answered,  gently: 

"  Yes,  daughter ! "  He  struggled  with  himself.  "And 
if  you  wish  it,  he  may  come  again." 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

"  But  he  won't  come  again.  That  is  what  makes  it 
so  hard;  he  will  never  come  back." 

She  turned  away,  but  not  quickly  enough  to  keep 
him  from  seeing  that  her  eyes  were  wet.  Wayne  Way- 
land  beheld  what  he  would  have  given  half  his  mighty 
fortune  to  prevent.  He  cried  out  angrily,  but  she  an 
ticipated  his  thought. 

"  No,  no,  you  must  never  injure  him  again,  for  he  was 
right  and  we  were  wrong.  You  see  I — couldn't  under 
stand.0 

He  left  her  staring  into  the  night,  and  walked  heavily 
below. 

Emerson  felt  a  great  sense  of  relief  and  deliverance  as 
he  leaned  against  his  oars.  His  heart  sang  to  the  mur 
mur  of  the  waters  overside;  for  the  first  time  in  many 
months  he  felt  young  and  free.  How  blind  he  had  been 
and  how  narrow  had  been  his  escape  from  a  life  that 
could  lead  to  but  one  result!  The  girl  was  sweet  and 
good  and  wonderful  in  many  ways,  but — three  years 
had  altered  him  more  than  he  had  realized.  He  had 
begun  to  understand  himself  that  very  afternoon, 
when  Cherry  had  told  him  her  own  unhappy  secret. 
The  shock  of,  her  disclosure  had  roused  him  from  his 
dream,  and  once  he  began  to  see  himself  as  he  really  was 
the  rest  had  come  quickly.  He  had  been  doubtful 
even  when  he  went  out  to  the  yacht,  but  what  happened 
there  had  destroyed  the  last  trace  of  uncertainty.  He 
knew  that  for  him  there  was  but  one  woman  in  all  the 
world.  It  was  no  easy  battle  he  had  fought  with  him 
self.  He  had  been  reared  to  respect  the  conventions, 
and  he  knew  that  Cherry's  life  had  not  been  all  he  could 
wish.  But  he  fronted  the  issue  squarely,  and  tried  to 
throttle  his  inbred  prejudice.  Although  he  had  felt  the 

384 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

truth  of  Eraser's  arguments  and  of  Cherry's  own  words, 
he  had  still  refused  to  yield  until  his  love  for  the  girl 
swept  over  him  in  all  its  power;  then  he  made  his  choice. 

The  one  thing  he  found  most  difficult  to  accept 
was  her  conduct  with  Milliard.  Those  other  charges 
against  the  girl  were  vague  and  shadowy,  but  this  was 
concrete,  and  he  was  familiar  with  every  miserable 
detail  of  it.  It  took  all  his  courage  to  face  it,  but  he 
swore  savagely  that  if  the  conditions  had  been  reversed, 
Cherry  would  not  have  faltered  for  an  instant.  More 
over,  what  she  had  done  had  been  done  for  love  of  him ; 
it  was  worse  than  vile  to  hesitate.  Her  past  was  her 
own,  and  all  he  could  rightfully  claim  was  her  future. 
He  shut  his  teeth  and  laid  his  course  resolutely  for  her 
landing,  striving  to  leave  behind  this  one  hideous 
memory,  centring  his  mind  upon  the  girl  herself  and 
shutting  out  her  past.  It  was  the  bitterest  fight  he 
had  ever  waged ;  but  when  he  reached  the  shore  and  tied 
his  skiff,  he  was  exalted  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
triumphed,  that  this  painful  episode  was  locked  away 
with  all  the  others. 

Now  that  he  had  conquered,  he  was  filled  with  a 
consuming  eagerness.  As  he  stole  up  through  the 
shadows  he  heard  her  playing,  and  when  he  drew  nearer 
he  recognized  the  notes  of  that  song  that  had  banished 
his  own  black  desolation  on  the  night  of  their  first 
meeting.  He  paused  outside  the  open  window  and  saw  by 
the  shaded  lamplight  that  she  was  playing  from  memory, 
her  fingers  wandering  over  the  keyboard  without  con 
scious  effort.  Then  she  took  up  the  words,  with  all  the 
throbbing  tenderness  that  lives  in  a  deep,  contralto  voice : 

"  Last  night  I  was  dreaming  of  thee,  love — was  dreaming; 
I  dreamed  thou  didst  promise — " 

385 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

Cherry  paused  as  if  entranced,  for  she  thought  she 
heard  another  voice  join  with  hers;  then  she  bowed 
her  head  and  sobbed  in  utter  wretchedness,  knowing 
it  for  nothing  more  than  her  own  fancy.  Too  many 
times,  as  in  other  twilights  past,  she  had  heard  that 
mellow  voice  blend  with  hers,  only  to  find  that  her 
ears  had  played  her  false  and  she  was  alone  with  a 
memory  that  would  never  die. 

Of  all  the  days  of  her  life  this  was  the  saddest,  this 
hour  the  loneliest,  and  the  tears  she  had  withheld  so 
bravely  as  long  as  there  was  work  to  do  came  now  in 
unbidden  profusion. 

To  face  those  people  on  the  yacht  had  been  an  act 
of  pure  devotion  to  Boyd,  for  her  every  instinct  had 
rebelled  against  it;  yet  she  had  known  that  some  des 
perate  stroke  in  his  defence  must  be  delivered  instantly. 
Otherwise  the  ruin  of  all  his  hopes  would  follow.  She 
had  hit  upon  the  device  of  using  Constantine  and 
Chakawana  largely  by  chance,  for  not  until  the  pre 
vious  day  had  she  learned  the  truth.  She  had  not  dared 
to  hope  for  such  unqualified  success,  nor  had  she  fore 
seen  the  tragic  outcome.  She  had  simply  carried  her 
plan  through  to  its  natural  conclusion.  Now  that  her 
work  was  done,  she  gave  way  completely  and  wept  like 
a  little  girl.  He  was  out  there  now  with  his  love. 
They  would  never  waste  a  thought  upon  that  other 
girl  who  had  made  their  happiness  possible.  The 
thought  was  almost  more  than  she  could  bear.  Never 
again  could  she  have  Boyd  to  herself,  never  enjoy  his 
careless  friendship  as  of  old;  even  that  was  over,  now 
that  he  knew  the  truth. 

The  first  and  only  kiss  he  had  ever  given  her  burned 
fresh  upon  her  lips.  She  recalled  that  evening  they 
had  spent  alone  in  this  very  room,  when  he  had  seemed 

386 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

to  waver  and  her  hopes  had  risen  at  the  dawning  of  a 
new  light  in  his  eyes.  At  the  memory  she  cried  aloud, 
as  if  her  heart  would  break: 

"Boyd!     Boyd!" 

He  entered  noiselessly  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Yes,  dear!"  he  murmured.  But  she  rose  with  a 
startled  exclamation,  and  wrenched  herself  from  his 
embrace.  The  piano  gave  forth  a  discordant  crash. 
Shrinking  back  as  from  an  apparition,  she  stared  into 
his  flushed  and  smiling  face;  then  breathed: 

"You!     Why  are  you — here!" 

"Because  I  love  you!" 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  swayed  as  if  under  the  spell 
of  wonderful  music ;  he  saw  the  throbbing  pulse  at  her 
throat.  Then  she  flung  out  her  hands,  crying,  pite- 
ously : 

"Go  away,  please,  before  I  find  it  is  only  another 
dream." 

She  raised  her  lids  to  find  him  still  standing  there, 
then  felt  him  with  fluttering  fingers. 

"Our  dreams  have  come  true,"  he  said,  gently,  and 
strove  to  imprison  her  hand. 

"No,  no!"  Her  voice  broke  wildly.  "You  don't 
mean  it.  You — you  haven't  come  to  stay." 

"I  have  come  to  stay  if  you  will  let  me,  dear." 

She  broke  from  his  grasp  and  moved  quickly  away. 

"Why  are  you  here?  I  left  you  out  there  with — 
her.  I  made  your  way  clear.  Why  have  you  come 
back?  What  more  can  I  do?  Dear  God!  What 
more  can  I  do?"  She  was  panting  as  if  desperately 
frightened. 

"There  is  but  one  thing  more  you  can  do  to  make 
me  happy.  You  can  be  my  wife." 

"But  I  don't  understand!"     She  shook  her   head 

387 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

hopelessly.     "You   are   jesting   with   me.     You   love 
Miss  Way  land." 

"No.  Miss  Way  land  leaves  to-night,  and  I  shall 
never  see  her  again." 

"Then  you  won't  marry  her?" 

"No." 

A  dull  color  rose  to  Cherry  Malotte's  cheeks;  she 
swallowed  as  if  her  throat  were  very  dry,  and  said, 
slowly : 

"Then  she  refused  you  in  spite  of  everything,  and 
you  have  come  to  me  because  of  what  I  told  you  this 
afternoon.  You  are  doing  this  out  of  pity — or  is  it 
because  you  are  angry  with  her?  No,  no,  Boyd!  I 
won't  have  it.  I  don't  want  your  pity — I  don't  want 
what  she  cast  off." 

"It  has  taken  me  a  long  time  to  find  myself,  Cherry, 
for  I  have  been  blinded  by  a  vision,"  he  answered.  "  I 
have  been  dreaming,  and  I  never  saw  clearly  till  to-day. 
I  came  away  of  my  own  free  will ;  and  I  came  straight 
to  you  because  it  is  you  I  love  and  shall  always  love." 

The  girl  suddenly  began  to  beat  her  hands  together. 

"You — forget  what  I — have  been!"  she  cried,  in  a 
voice  that  tore  her  lover's  heartstrings.  "You  can't 
want  to — marry  me?" 

"  To-night,"  he  said,  simply,  and  held  out  his  arms  to 
her.  "  I  love  you  and  I  want  you.  That  is  all  I  know 
or  care  about." 

He  found  her  upon  his  breast,  sobbing  and  shaking 
as  if  she  had  sought  shelter  there  from  some  great  peril. 
He  buried  his  face  in  the  soft  masses  of  her  hair,  whis 
pering  fondly  to  her  till  her  emotion  spent  itself.  She 
turned  her  face  shyly  up  at  length  and  pressed  her  lips 
to  his.  Then,  holding  herself  away  from  him,  she  said, 
with  a  half-doubtful  yet  radiant  look: 

388 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

44  It  is  not  too  late  yet.  I  will  give  you  one  final 
chance  to  save  yourself." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Then  I  have  done  my  duty!"  She  snuggled  closer 
to  him.  "And  you  have  no  regrets?" 

44  Only  one.  I  am  sorry  that  I  can't  give  you  more 
than  my  name.  I  may  have  to  go  out  into  the  world 
and  begin  all  over  if  Mr.  Wayland  carries  out  his  threat. 
I  may  be  the  poorest  of  the  poor." 

"That  will  be  my  opportunity  to  show  how  well  I 
love  you.  You  can  be  no  poorer  than  I  in  this  world's 
goods." 

"You  at  least  have  your  copper-mine." 

44 1  have  no  mine,"  said  the  girl.  "  Not  even  the 
smallest  interest  in  one." 

"  But — I  don't  understand." 

She  dropped  her  eyes.  "  Mr.  Hilliard  is  a  hard  man 
to  deal  with.  I  had  to  give  him  all  my  share  in  the 
claims." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  you  sold  out  to  him." 

"  No !  When  I  found  you  could  not  raise  the  money, 
I  gave  him  my  share  in  the  mine.  With  that  as  a 
consideration,  he  made  you  the  loan.  You  are  not 
angry,  are  you?" 

"Angry!"  Emerson's  tone  conveyed  a  supreme 
gladness.  <4  You  don't  know — how  happy  you  have 
made  me." 

"Hark!"  She  laid  a  finger  upon  his  lips.  Through 
the  breathless  night  there  came  the  faint  rumble  of  a 
ship's  chains. 

"The  Grande  Dame!"  he  cried.  "She  sails  at  the 
flood  tide." 

They  stood  together  in  the  open  doorway  of  the  little 
house  and  watched  the  yacht's  lights  as  they  described 

389 


THE    SILVER    HORDE 

a  great  curve  through  the  darkness,  then  slowly  faded 
into  nothingness  down  the  bay.  Cherry  drew  herself 
closer  to  Boyd. 

"What  a  wonderful  Providence  guides  us,  after  all," 
she  said.  "That  girl  had  everything  in  the  world,  and 
I  was  poor — so  poor — until  this  hour.  God  grant  she 
may  some  day  be  as  rich  as  I!" 

Out  on  The  Grande  Dame  the  girl  who  had  every 
thing  in  the  world  maintained  a  lonely  vigil  at  the 
rail,  straining  with  tragic  eyes  until  the  sombre  shadows 
that  marked  the  shores  of  the  land  she  feared  had  shrunk 
to  a  faint,  low-lying  streak  on  the  horizon.  Then  she 
turned  and  went  below,  numbed  by  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  very  poor  and  very  wretched,  and  had  never 
understood. 


THE    END 


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